CHTERSIDE 
OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 


yionslyLBAUMER 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 


^•^v/Tc*-^ 


LORD'S 


THE  LIGHTER  SIDE  OF 

SCHOOL  LIFE 

BY    IAN     HAY 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  SAFETY  MATCH  " 
WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  REPRODUCED 
FROM    PASTEL  DRAWINGS   BY 

LEWIS     BAUMER 


BOSTON 
LE  ROY  PHILLIPS 


First  Edition  published  October  nine- 
teen hundred  fourteen;  reprinted  May 
n  ineteen  fifteen 


Printed  in  Scot i and  by 

Ballantvne,  Hanson,  <5r>  Co. 

At  the  Ballantyne  Press,  Edinburgh 


TO 

THE  MEMBERS  '. 

OF  {.  _ 

THE  MOST  RESPONSIBLE  '  ^*    '  ■'- 

THE  LEAST  ADVERTISED 
THE  WORST  PAID 

AND 

THE  MOST  RICHLY  REWARDED 

PROFESSION 

IN  THE  WORLD 


THE  LIST  OF  CONTENTS 

I.  THE  HEADMASTER     ....  page      I 

H.  THE  HOUSEMASTER 35 

HI.  SOME  FORM-MASTERS       ....       57 

IV.  BOYS 91 

V.  THE  PURSUIT  OF  KNOWLEDGE  .        .121 

VI.  SCHOOL  STORIES 149 

VII.  "MY  PEOPLE" 175 

VIII.  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  MAN    .         .        .205 


THE  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

reproduced  from  drawings  by 
Lewis  Baumer 


LORD'S Fro7itispicce 

THE  HEADMASTER  OF  FICTION     .        .  page     i6 

THE  SCHOOLBOY  OF  FICTION         ...       32 

THE  DAREDEVIL 48 

THE  LUNCHEON  INTERVAL:  PORTRAIT  OF 
A  GENTLEMAN  WHO  HAS  SCORED 
FIFTY  RUNS 64 

THE  FRENCH  MASTER  :  (I)  FICTION, 

(II)  P'ACT 88 

THE  INTELLECTUAL 104 

THE  NIPPER 120 

THE  FAG:   "SIC  VOS  NON  VOBIS"  .        .     152 

THE  SCHOOLGIRL'S  DREAM     .        .        .        .176 

RANK  AND  FILE 192 

THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD        ,        ,        .         .208 


NOTE 

These  sketches  originally  appeared  in  '■'■Blackwood's 
Magazine"  to  the  proprietors  of  ivhich  I  am  indebted 
for  permission  to  reproduce  them  in  book  form. 

IAN    HAY 


CHAPTER    ONE 
THE    HEADMASTER 


THE  LIGHTER  SIDE  OF 
SCHOOL  LIFE  CHAPTER  ONE 
THE  HEADMASTER 

FIRST    OF    ALL    THERE    IS    THE 

Headmaster  of  Fiction.  He  is  invariably  called 
"The  Doctor,"  and  he  wears  cap  and  gown  even 
when  birching  malefactors — which  he  does  in- 
termittently throughout  the  day — or  attend- 
ine  a  cricket  match.  For  all  we  know  he  wears 
them  in  bed. 

He  speaks  a  language  peculiar  to  himself — 
a  language  which  at  once  enables  you  to  recog- 
nise him  as  a  Headmaster;  just  as  you  may  re- 
cognise a  stage  Irishman  from  the  fact  that  he 
says  "Begorrah!",or  a  stage  sailor  from  thefact 
that  he  has  to  take  constant  precautions  with 
his  trousers.  Thus,  the  "Doctor"  invariably  ad- 
dresses his  cowering  pupils  as  "Boys!" — a 
form  of  address  which  in  reality  only  survives 
nowadays  in  places  where  you  are  invited  to 
"have  another  with  me" — and  if  no  audience 
of  boys  is  available  at  the  moment,  he  address- 
es a  single  boy  as  if  he  were  a  whole  audience. 
To  influential  parents  he  is  servile  and  oleag- 
inous, and  he  treats  his  staff  with  fatuous  pomp- 
osity. Such  a  being  may  have  existed — may 
exist — but  we  have  never  met  him. 

3 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

What  of  the  Headmaster  of  Fact?  To  con- 
dense him  into  a  type  is  one  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult things  in  the  world,  for  this  reason.  Most 
of  us  have  known  only  one  Headmaster  in  our 
lives — if  we  have  known  more  we  are  not  likely 
to  say  so,  for  obvious  reasons — and  it  is  diffi- 
cult for  Man  (as  distinct  from  Woman),  to  ar- 
gue from  the  particular  to  the  general.  More- 
over, the  occasions  upon  which  we  have  met 
the  subject  of  our  researches  at  close  quarters 
have  not  been  favourable  to  dispassionate  char- 
acter-study. It  is  difficult  to  form  an  unbiassed 
or  impartial  judgment  of  a  man  out  of  material 
supplied  solely  by  a  series  of  brief  interviews 
spread  over  a  period  of  years — interviews  at 
which  his  contribution  to  the  conversation  has 
beenlimited  to  a  curt  request  that  you  will  bend 
over,  and  yours  to  a  sequence  of  short  sharp 
ejaculations. 

However,  some  of  us  have  known  more  than 
one  Headmaster, and  upon  us  devolves  the  sol- 
emn duty  of  distilling  our  various  experiences 
into  a  single  essence. 

What  are  the  characteristics  of  a^-r^^/  Head- 
master? Instinct  at  once  prompts  us  to  premise 
that  he  must  be  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman.  A 
gentleman,  undoubtedly,  he  must  be;  but  now- 

4 


THE    HEADMASTER 

adays  scholarship — high  classical  scholarship 
— is  a  hindrance  rather  than  a  help.  To  super- 
vise the  instruction  of  modern  youth  a  man 
requires  something  more  than  profound  learn- 
ing: he  must  possess  savoir  faire.  If  you  set  a 
great  scholar — and  a  great  scholar  has  an  un- 
fortunate habit  of  being  nothing  but  a  great 
scholar — in  charge  of  the  multifarious  interests 
of  a  public  school,  you  are  setting  a  razor  to  cut 
grindstones.  As  well  appoint  an  Astronomer 
Royal  to  command  an  Atlantic  liner.  He  may 
be  on  terms  of  easy  familiarity  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  heavenly  bodies,  yet  fail  to  under- 
stand the  right  way  of  dealing  with  refractory 
stokers. 

A  Headmaster  is  too  busy  a  personage  to 
keep  his  own  scholarship  tuned  up  to  concert 
pitch;  and  if  he  devotes  adequate  time  to  this 
object — and  a  scholar  must  practise  almost  as 
diligently  as  a  pianist  or  an  acrobat  if  he  is  to 
remain  in  the  first  flight — he  will  have  little 
leisure  left  for  less  intellectual  but  equally  vital 
duties.  Nowadays  in  great  public  schools  the 
Head,  although  he  probably  takes  the  Sixth 
for  an  hour  or  two  a  day,  delegates  most  of  his 
work  in  this  direction  to  a  capable  and  up-to- 
date  young  man  fresh  from  the  University,  and 

5 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

devotes  his  energies  to  such  trifling  details  as 
the  organisation  of  school  routine,  the  super- 
vision of  the  cook,  the  administration  of  just- 
ice, the  diplomatic  handling  of  the  Governing 
Body,  and  the  suppression  of  parents. 

So  far  then  we  are  agreed — the  great  advant- 
age of  dogmatising  in  print  is  that  one  can  take 
the  agreement  of  the  reader  for  granted — that 
a  Headmaster  must  be  agentleman,  but  not  nec- 
essarily a  scholar — in  the  very  highest  senseof 
the  word.  What  other  virtues  must  he  possess? 
Well,  he  must  be  a  majestic  figurehead.  This 
is  not  sodifficult  as  itsounds.  Thedignity  which 
doth  hedge  a  Headmaster  is  so  tremendous 
that  the  dullest  and  fussiest  of  the  race  can 
hardly  fail  to  be  impressive  and  awe-inspiring 
to  the  plastic  mind  of  youth.  More  than  one 
King  Log  has  left  a  name  behind  him,  through 
standing  still  in  the  limelight  and  keeping  his 
mouth  shut.  But  then  he  was  probably  lucky  in 
his  lieutenants. 

Next,  he  must  have  a  sense  of  humour.  If  he 
cannot  see  the  entertaining  side  ofyouthful  de- 
pravity, magisterial  jealousy,  and  parental  fussi- 
ness,  he  will  undoubtedly  go  mad.  A  sense  of 
humour,  too,  will  prevent  him  from  making  a 
fool  of  himself,  and  a  Headmaster  must  never 

6 


THE    HEADMASTER 

do  that.  It  also  engendersTact,  and  Tact  is  the 
essence  of  life  to  a  man  who  has  to  deal  every 
day  with  the  igrnorant,  and  the  bigoted,  and  the 
sentimental.  (These  adjectives  are  applicable 
to  boys,  masters,  and  parents,  and  may  be  ap- 
plied collectively  or  individually  with  equal 
truth.)  Not  that  all  humorous  people  are  tact- 
ful: bitter  experience  of  the  practical  joker  has 
taught  us  that.  But  no  person  can  be  tactful 
who  cannot  see  the  ludicrous  side  of  things. 
There  is  a  certain  Headmaster  of  to-day,  jusdy 
celebrated  as  a  brilliant  teacher  and  a  born  or- 
ganiser, who  is  lacking — entirely  lacking — in 
thatpriceless  giftof  the  gods, asenseof  humour, 
with  which  is  incorporated  Tact.  Shortly  after 
he  took  up  his  present  appointment,  one  of  the 
most  popular  boys  in  the  school,  while  leading 
the  field  in  a  cross-country  race,  was  run  over 
and  killed  by  an  express  train  which  emerged 
from  a  tunnel  as  he  ran  across  the  line,  within 
measurable  distance  of  accomplishing  a  record 
for  the  course. 

Next  mornincr  the  order  went  forth  that  the 
whole  school  were  to  assemble  in  the  ereat  hall. 
They  repaired  thither,  not  unpleasantly  thrill- 
ed. There  would  be  a  funeral  oration,  and  boys 
are  curiously  partial  to  certain  forms  of  emo- 

7 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

tionalism.  They  like  to  be  harangued  before  a 
football -match,  for  instance,  in  the  manner  of 
the  Greeks  of  old.  These  boys  had  already  had 
a  taste  of  the  Head's  quality  as  a  speaker,  and 
they  felt  that  he  would  do  their  departed  hero 
justice.  They  reminded  one  another  of  the  mov- 
ing words  which  the  late  Head  had  spoken 
when  an  Old  Boy  had  fallen  in  battle  afewyears 
before  underparticnlarlysplendid  circumstanc- 
es. They  remembered  how  pleased  the  Old 
Boy's  father  and  mother  had  been  about  it. 
Their  comrade,  whom  they  had  revered  and 
loved  as  recently  as  yesterday,  would  receive  a 
fitting  farewell  too;  and  they  would  all  feel  the 
prouder  of  the  school  for  the  words  that  they 
were  about  to  hear.  They  did  not  say  this  aloud, 
for  the  sentimentality  of  boys  is  of  the  inarticul- 
ate kind,  but  the  thought  was  uppermost  in  their 
minds. 

Presently  they  were  all  assembled,  and  the 
Head  appeared  upon  his  rostrum.  There  was 
a  deathlike  stillness:  not  a  boy  stirred. 

Then  the  Head  spoke. 

"Any  boy,"  he  announced,  "found  trespass- 
ing upon  the  railway-line  in  future  will  be  ex- 
pelled. You  may  go." 

They  went.  The  organisation  of  that  school 

8 


THE   HEADMASTER 

is  still  a  model  of  perfection,  and  its  scholarship 
list  is  exceptionally  high.  But  the  school  has 
never  forgiven  the  Head.and  never  will  so  long 
as  tradition  and  sentiment  count  for  anything 
in  this  world. 

So  far,  then,  wehave  accumulated  the  follow- 
ing virtues  for  the  Headmaster.  He  must  be  a 
gentleman,  apicturesque figure-head, and  must 

possess  a  sense  of  humour. 

He  must  also,  of  course,  be  a  ruler.  Now 
you  may  rule  men  in  two  ways — either  with  a 
rapier  or  a  bludgeon  ;  but  a  man  who  can  gain 
his  ends  with  the  latter  will  seldom  have  re- 
course to  the  former.  The  Headmaster  who 
possesses  on  the  top  of  other  essential  qualit- 
ies the  power  of  being  uncompromisingly  and 
divinely  rude,  is  to  be  envied  above  all  men. 
For  him  life  is  full  of  short  cuts.  He  never 
argues.  '' Lecole,  cest  moi,'  he  growls,  and 
no  one  contradicts  him.  Boys  idolise  him.  In 
his  presence  they  are  paralysed  with  fear,  but 
away  from  it  they  glory  in  his  ferocity  of  mien 
and  strength  of  arm.  Masters  rave  impotently 
at  his  brusqucrie  and  absolutism;  but  A  says 
secretly  to  himself:  "Well,  it's  a  treat  to  see 
the  way  the  old  man  keeps  B  and  C  up  to  the 
collar."     As  for  parents,  they  simply  refuse  to 

9 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

face  him,  which  is  the  head  and  summit  of  that 
which  a  master  desires  of  a  parent. 

Such  a  man  is  Olympian,  having  none  of  the 
foibles  or  soft  moments  of  a  human  being.  He 
dwells  apart,  in  an  atmosphere  too  rarefied  for 
those  who  intrude  into  it.  His  subjects  never 
regard  him  as  a  man  of  like  passions  with  them- 
selves: they  would  be  quite  shocked  if  such  an 
idea  were  suggested  to  them.  I  once  asked  a 
distinguished  alumnus  of  a  great  school,  which 
had  been  ruled  with  consummate  success  for 
twenty-four  years  by  such  a  Head  as  I  have 
described,  to  give  me  a  few  reminiscences  of 
the  great  man  as  a  man — his  characterist- 
ics, his  mannerisms,  his  vulnerable  points,  his 
tricks  of  expression,  his  likes  and  dislikes,  and 
his  hobbies. 

My  friend  considered. 

"He  was  a  holy  terror,"  he  announced,  after 
profound  meditation. 

"Quite  so.  But  in  what  way?" 

My  friend  thought  again. 

* '  I  can't  remember  anything  particular  about 
him,"  he  said,  "except  that  he  was  a  holy  terror 
— and  the  greatest  man  that  ever  lived!" 

"But  tell  me  something  personal  about  him. 
How  did  his  conversation  impress  you?" 

lO 


THE   HEADMASTER 

''Conversation?  Bless  you,  he  never  convers- 
ed with  anybody.  He  just  told  them  what  he 
thought  about  a  thing,  and  that  settled  it.  Be- 
sides, I  never  exchanged  a  word  with  him  in 
my  life.   But  he  was  a  great  man." 

"Didn't  you  meet  him  all  the  time  you  were 
at  school?" 

"Oh yes,  I  piethim,"  replied  my  friend  with 
feeling — "three  or  four  times.  And  that  re- 
minds me,  I  can  tell  you  something  personal 
about  him.  The  old  swine  was  left-handed!  A 
great  man,  a  great  man!" 

Happy  the  warrior  who  can  inspire  worship 
on  such  sinister  foundations  as  these! 

The  other  kind  has  to  prevail  by  another 
method — the  Machiavellian.  As  a  successful 
Headmaster  of  my  acquaintance  once  brutally 
but  truthfully  expressed  it:  "You  simply  have 
to  employ  a  certain  amount  of  low  cunning  if 
you  are  going  to  keep  a  school  going  at  all." 
And  he  was  right.  A  man  unendowed  with  the 
divine  gift  of  rudeness  would,  if  he  spent  his 
time  answering  the  criticisms  or  meeting  the 
objections  of  colleagues  or  parents  or  even 
boys,  have  no  time  for  anything  else.  So  he 
seeks  refuge  either  in  finesse  or  flight.  If  a  par- 
ent rings  him  up  on  the  telephone,  he  murmurs 
II 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

something  courteous  about  a  wrong  number 
and  then  leaves  the  receiver  off  the  hook.  If  a 
housemaster,  swelUng  with  some  grievance  or 
scheme  of  reform,  bears  down  upon  him  upon 
the  cricket  field  on  a  summer  afternoon,  he 
adroitly  lures  him  under  a  tree  where  another 
housemaster  is  standing,  and  leaves  them  there 
together.  If  an  enthusiastic  junior  discharges 
at  his  head  some  glorious  but  quite  impractic- 
able project,  such  as  the  performance  of  a  past- 
oral play  in  the  school  grounds,  or  the  enforce- 
ment of  a  vegetarian  diet  upon  the  School  for 
experimental  purposes,  he  replies:  "My  dear 
fellow,  the  Governing  Body  will  never  hear  of 
it!"  What  he  means  is:  "The  Governing  Body 
shall  never  hear  of  it." 

He  has  other  diplomatic  resources  at  his  call. 
Here  is  an  example. 

A  Headmaster  once  called  his  flock  together 
and  said: 

"A  very  unpleasant  and  discreditable  thing 
has  happened.  The  municipal  authorities  have 
recently  erected  a  pair  of  extremely  ornate  and 
expensive — er — lamp-posts  outside  the  resid- 
ence of  the  Mayor  of  the  town.  These  lamp- 
posts appear  to  have  attracted  the  unfavourable 
notice  of  the  School.     Last  Sunday  evening, 

12 


THE    HEADMASTER 

between  seven  and  einrht  o'clock,  they  were 
attacked  and  wrecked,  apparently  by  volleys  of 
stones." 

There  was  a  faint  but  appreciative  murmur 
from  those  membersof  the  School  to  whom  the 
news  of  this  outrai^^e  was  now  made  public  for 
the  first  time.  13 ut  a  baleful  flash  from  the 
Head's  spectacles  restored  instant  silence. 

"Several  parties  of  boys,"  he  continued, 
"must  have  passed  these  lamp-posts  on  that 
evening,  on  their  way  back  to  their  respective 
houses  after  Chapel.  I  wish  to  see  all  boys  who 
in  any  way  participated  in  the  outrage  in  my 
study  directly  after  Second  School.  I  warn 
them  that  I  shall  make  a  severe  example  of 
them."  His  voice  rose  to  a  blare.  "  I  will  not 
have  the  prestige  and  fair  fame  of  the  School 
lowered  in  the  eyes  of  the  Town  by  the  vulgar 
barbarities  of  a  parcel  of  ill-conditioned  little 
street-boys.     You  may  go!" 

The  audience  rose  to  their  feet  and  beean  to 

o 

steal  silently  away.  But  they  were  puzzled. 
The  Old  Man  was  no  fool  as  a  rule.  Did  he 
really  imagine  that  chaps  would  be  such  mugs 
as  to  own  up? 

But  before  the  first  boy  reached  the  door  the 
Head  spoke  again. 

13 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

"I  may  mention,"  he  added  very  gently,  "that 
the  attack  upon  the — er — lamp-posts  was  wit- 
nessed by  a  gentleman  resident  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, a  warm  friend  of  the  School.  He 
was  able  to  identify  one  of  the  culprits,  whose 
name  is  in  my  possession.  That  is  all." 

And  quite  enough  too!  When  the  Head  vis- 
ited his  study  after  Second  School,  he  found 
seventeen  malefactors  meekly  awaiting  chast- 
isement. 

But  he  never  divulged  the  name  of  the  boy 
who  had  been  identified,  or  for  that  matter  the 
identity  of  the  warm  friend  of  the  School.  I 
wonder! 

One  more  quality  is  essential  to  the  great 
Headmaster.  He  must  possess  the  Sixth 
Sense.  He  must  see  nothing,  yet  know  every- 
thing that  goes  on  in  the  School.  Etiquette 
forbids  that  he  should  enter  one  of  his  col- 
league's houses  except  as  an  invited  guest;  yet 
he  must  be  acquainted  with  all  that  happens  in- 
side that  house.  He  is  debarred  by  the  same 
rigid  law  from  entering  the  form-room  orstudy- 
ing  the  methods  and  capability  of  any  but  the 
most  junior  form-masters;  and  yet  he  must 
know  whether  Mr.  A.  in  the  Senior  Science 

14 


THE    HEADMASTER 

Set  is  expounding  theories  of  inorganic  chem- 
istry which  have  been  obsolete  for  ten  years,  or 
whether  Mr.  B.  in  the  Junior  Remove  is  accus- 
tomed meekly  to  remove  a  pool  of  ink  from  the 
seat  of  his  chair  before  beginning  his  daily 
labours.  He  must  not  mingle  with  the  boys, 
for  that  would  be  undignified;  yet  he  must,  and 
usually  does,  know  every  boy  in  the  School  by 
sight,  and  something  about  him.  He  must 
never  attempt  to  acquire  information  by  obvi- 
ous cross-examination  either  of  boy  or  master, 
or  he  will  be  accused  of  prying  and  interfer- 
ence; and  he  can  never,  or  should  never,  discuss 
one  of  his  colleagues  with  another.  And  yet 
he  must  have  his  hand  upon  the  pulse  of  the 
School  in  such  wise  as  to  be  able  to  tell  which 
master  is  incompetent,  which  prefect  is  un- 
trustworthy, which  boy  is  a  bully,  and  which 
House  is  rotten.  In  other  words,  he  must 
possess  a  Red  Indian's  powers  of  observation 
and  a  woman's  powers  of  intuition.  H  e  must  be 
able  to  suck  in  school  atmosphere  through  his 
pores.  He  must  be  able  to  judge  of  a  man's 
keenness  or  his  fitness  for  duty  by  his  general 
attitude  and  conversation  when  off  duty.  He 
must  be  able  to  read  volumes  from  the  demean- 
our of  a  group  in  the  corner  of  the  quadrangle, 

15 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

from  a  small  boy's  furtive  expression,  or  even 
from  the  timbre  of  the  singing  in  chapel.  He 
must  notice  which  boy  has  too  many  friends, 
and  which  none  at  all. 

Such  are  a  few  of  the  essentials  of  the  great 
Headmaster,  and  to  the  glory  of  our  system  be 
it  said  that  there  are  still  many  in  the  land.  But 
the  type  is  changing.  The  autocratic  Titan  of 
the  past  hasbeen  shorn  of  his  locks  by  twoDel- 
ilahs — Modern  Sides  and  Government  Inter- 
ference. 

First,  Modern  Sides. 

Time  was  when  A  Sound  Classical  Educ- 
ation, Lady  Matron,  and  Meat  for  Breakfast 
formed  the  alpha  and  omega  of  a  public  school 
prospectus.  But  times  have  changed,  at  least  in 
so  far  as  the  Sound  Classical  Education  is  con- 
cerned. TheHeadmasterof  the  old  school,  who 
looks  upon  the  classics  as  the  foundation  of  all 
education,  and  regards  modern  sides  as  a  sop  to 
the  parental  Cerberus,  finds  himself  called  upon 
to  cope  with  new  and  strange  monsters. 

First  of  all,  the  members  of  that  once  de- 
spised race,  the  teachers  of  Science.  Formerly 
these  maintained  a  servile  and  apologetic  ex- 
istence, supervising  a  turbulent  collection  of 
young  gentlemen  whose  sole  appreciation  of 

i6 


XPW 


THK  UKADM ASTER  OF  FICTION 


THE    HEADMASTER 

this  branch  of  knowledge  was  derived  from  the 
unrivalled  opportunities  which  its  pursuit  af- 
forded for  the  creation  of  horrible  stenches  and 
untimely  explosions.  Now  they  have  uprisen, 
and,  asseverating  that  classical  education  is  a 
pricked  bubble,  askboldly  for  expensive  appar- 
atus and  a  larger  tract  of  space  in  the  time- 
table. 

Then  the  parent.  He  has  got  quite  out  of 
hand  lately.  In  days  past  things  were  different. 
Usually  an  old  public-school  boy  himself,  and 
proudly  conscious  that  Classics  had  made  him 
"what  he  was,"  the  parent  deferred  entirely  to 
the  Headmaster's  judgment,  and  entrusted  his 
son  to  his  care  without  question  or  stipulation. 
But  a  new  race  of  parents  has  arisen,  men  who 
avow,  modestly  but  firmly,  that  they  have  been 
made  not  by  the  Classics  but  by  themselves, 
and  who  demand,  with  a  great  assumption  of 
you-can't-put-w^-off-with-last-season's-goods, 
that  their  offspring  shall  be  taught  something 
up-to-date — something  which  will  be  "useful" 
in  an  office. 

Asrain,  there  is  our  old  friend  the  Man  in  the 
Street,  who,  through  the  medium  of  his  favour- 
ite mouthpiece,  the  halfpenny  press,  asks  the 
Headmaster  very  sternly  what  he  means  by 
17  B 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

turning  out  "scholars"  who  are  incapable  of 
writing  an  invoice  in  commercial  Spanish,  and 
to  whom  double  entry  is  Double  Dutch. 

And  lastly  there  is  the  boy  himself,  whose 
utter  loathinof  and  horror  of  education  as  a 
whole  has  not  blinded  him  to  the  fact  that  the 
cultivation  of  some  branches  thereof  calls  for 
considerably  less  effort  than  that  of  others,  and 
who  accordingly  occupies  the  greater  part  of 
his  weekly  letter  home  with  fervent  requests  to 
his  parents  to  permit  him  to  drop  Classics  and 
take  up  modern  languages  or  science. 

The  united  ao^'itations  of  this  incono'ruous 
band  have  called  into  existence  the  Modern  Side 
— Delilah  Number  One.  NowforNumberTwo. 

Until  a  few  years  ago  the  State  confined  its 
ebullience  in  matters  educational  to  the  Board 
Schools.  But  with  the  growth  of  national  educ- 
ation and  class  jealousy — the  two  seem  to  go 
hand-in-hand — the  working  classes  of  this 
country  began  to  point  out  to  the  Government, 
not  altogether  unreasonably,  that  what  is  sauce 
for  the  goose  is  sauce  for  the  gander.  "Why," 
they  inquired  bitterly,  "should  we  be  the  only 
people  educated?  Must  the  poor  always  be  op- 
pressed, while  the  rich  go  free?  What  about 
these  public  schools  of  yours — the  seminaries 

i8 


THE    HEADMASTER 

of  the  bloated  and  pampered  Aristocracy?  You 
leave  us  alone  for  a  bit,  and  give  them  a  turn, 
or  we  may  get  nasty!"  So  a  pliable  Govern- 
ment, remembering  that  public-school  masters 
are  not  represented  in  Parliament  while  the 
working-classes  are,  obeyed.  They  began  by 
publicly  announcing  that  in  future  all  teachers 
must  be  trained  to  teach.  To  give  effect  to  this 
decree,  they  declared  their  intention  of  immedi- 
ately introducing  a  Bill  to  provide  that  after  a 
certain  date  no  Headmaster  of  any  school,  high 
or  low,  would  be  permitted  to  engage  an  assist- 
ant who  had  not  earned  a  certificate  at  a  train- 
ing college  and  registered  himself  in  a  mysteri- 
ous schedule  called  'Column  B,'  paying  a  guin- 
ea for  the  privilege. 

The  prospective  schoolmasters  of  the  day — 
fourth-year  men  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge, 
inexperienced  in  the  ways  of  Government  De- 
partments— were  deeply  impressed.  Most  of 
them  hurriedly  borrowed  a  guinea  and  regis- 
tered in  Column  B.  They  even  went  further. 
In  the  hope  of  forestalling  the  foolish  virgins 
of  their  profession,  they  attended  lectures  and 
studied  books  which  dealt  with  the  science  of 
education.  They  hecD.inG  a^^ac/z^s Sit  East  End 
Board-Schools,  where,  under  the  supervision 

19 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

of  a  capable  but  plebeian  Master  of  Method, 
they  endeavoured  to  instruct  classes  of  some 
sixty  or  seventy  babbling  six-year-olds  in  the 
elements  of  reading  and  writing,  in  order  that 
hereafter  they  might  be  better  able  to  elucidate 
Cicero  and  Thucydides  to  scholarship  candid- 
ates at  a  public  school. 

Others,  however — the  aforementioned  fool- 
ish virgins — whose  knowledge  of  British  polit- 
ics was  greater  than  their  interest  in  the  Theory 
ofEducation, decided  to  'waitandsee.'  Thatis 
to  say,  they  accepted  the  first  vacancy  at  a 
public  school  which  presented  itself  and  settled 
down  to  work  upon  the  old  lines,  a  year's  seni- 
ority to  the  good.  In  a  just  world  this  rashness 
and  improvidence  would  have  met  with  its  due 
reward — namely,  ultimate  eviction  (when  the 
Bill  passed)  from  a  comfortable  berth,  and  a 
stern  command  to  go  and  learn  the  business  of 
teaching  before  presuming  to  teach.  But  un- 
fortunately the  Bill  never  did  pass:  it  never  so 
much  as  reached  its  First  Reading.  It  lies  now 
in  some  dusty  pigeon-hole  in  the  Education 
Office,  forgotten  by  all  save  its  credulous  vic- 
tims. The  British  Exchequer  is  the  richer  by 
severalthousandguineas,  contributed  by  aclass 
to  whom  of  course  a  guinea  is  a  mere  bagatelle; 

20 


THE    HEADMASTER 

and  here  and  there  throughout  the  public 
schools  of  this  country  there  exist  men  who, 
when  they  first  joined  the  Staff,  had  the  mys- 
terious formula,  "  Reg.  Col.  B.,"  printed  upon 
their  testimonials,  and  discoursed  learnedly  to 
stupefied  Headmasters  about  brain-tracks  and 
psychology,  and  the  mutual  stimulus  of  co- 
sexual  competition,  for  a  month  or  two  before 
awakeninof  to  the  one  fundamental  truth  which 
governs  public-school  education — namely,  that 
if  you  can  keep  boys  in  order  you  can  teach 
them  anything;  if  not,  all  the  Column  B.'s 
in  the  Education  Office  will  avail  you  noth- 
ing- 

That  was  all.  The  incident  is  ancient  history 

now.  1 1  was  a  capital  practical  joke,  perpetrat- 
ed by  a  Government  singularly  lacking  in  hum- 
our in  other  respects;  and  no  one  remembers  it 
except  the  people  to  whom  the  guineas  belong. 
But  it  gave  the  Headmasters  of  the  country  a 
bad  fright.  It  provides  them  with  a  foretaste  of 
the  nuisance  which  the  State  can  make  of  itself 
when  it  chooses  to  be  paternal.  So  such  of  the 
Headmasters  as  were  wise  decided  to  be  upon 
their  cruard  for  the  future  ao^ainst  the  blandish- 
ments  of  the  party  politician.  And  they  were 
justified;  for  presently  the  Legislature  stirred 

21 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

in  its  sleep  and  embarked  upon  yet  another 
enterprise. 

Philip,  king  of  Macedon,  used  to  say  that  no 
city  was  impregnable  whose  gates  were  wide 
enough  to  admit  a  single  mule-load  of  gold. 
Similarly  the  Board  of  Education  decided  that 
no  public  school,however  haughty  or  exclusive, 
could  ever  again  call  its  soul  its  own  once  the 
Headmaster  (of  his  own  free  will,  or  overruled 
by  the  Governing  Body)  had  been  asinine 
enough  to  accept  a  "grant."  So  they  approach- 
ed the  public  schools  with  fair  words.    They 

said: — 

"How  would  you  like  a  subsidy,  now,  where- 
with to  build  a  new  science  laboratory?  What 
about  a  few  State-aided  scholarships?  Won't 
you  let  us  help  you?  Strict  secrecy  will  be  ob- 
served, and  advances  made  upon  your  note  of 
hand  alone" — or  words  to  that  effect. 

The  larger  and  better -endowed  public 
schools,  conscious  of  a  fat  bank-balance  and  a 
long  waiting  list  of  prospective  pupils,  merely 
winked  their  rheumy  eyes  and  shook  their 
heavy  heads. 

''Timeo  Danaos,''  they  growled — ''et  dona 
ferentesT 

When  this  observation  was  translated  to  the 

22 


THE    HEADMASTER 

Minister  for  Education,  he  smiled  enigmat- 
ically, and  bided  his  time.  But  some  of  the 
smaller  schools,  hard  pressed  by  modern  com- 
petition, gobbled  the  bait  at  once.  The  mule- 
load  of  gold  arrived  promptly,  and  close  in  its 
train  came  Retribution.  Inspectors  swooped 
down — clerkly  young  men  who  in  their  time 
had  passed  an  incredible  number  of  Standards, 
and  were  now  receivinof  what  was  to  them  a 
princely  salary  for  indulging  in  the  easiest  and 
most  congenial  of  all  human  recreations — that 
of  criticising  the  efforts  of  others.  There  ar- 
rived, too,  precocious  prize-pupils  from  the 
Board  Schools,  winners  of  County  Council 
scholarships  whichentitled  them  to  a  few  years' 
"polish"  at  a  public  school — apolish  but  slowly 
attained,  despite  constant  friction  with  their  new 
and  loving  playmates. 

But  the  great  strongholds  still  held  out.  So 
other  methods  were  adopted.  The  examination 
screw  was  applied. 

As  most  of  us  remember  to  our  cost,  we  used 
periodically  in  our  youth  at  school  to  suffer  from 
an  "examination  week,"  during  which  a  mys- 
terious power  from  outside  was  permitted  to 
inflict  upon  us  examination  papers  upon  every 
subject  upon  earth,  under  the  title  of  Oxford 
23 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

and  Cambridge  Locals — the  High,  the  Middle, 
and  the  Low — or,  in  Scotland,  the  Leaving 
Certificate.  These  papers  were  set  and  cor- 
rected by  persons  unknown,  residing  in  Lon- 
don; and  we  were  supervised  as  we  answered 
them  not  by  our  own  preceptors — they  stamped- 
ed joyously  away  to  play  golf — but  by  strange 
creatures  who  took  charge  of  the  examination- 
room  with  an  air  of  uneasy  assurance,  suggest- 
ive of  a  man  travelling  first-class  with  a  third- 
class  ticket.  In  due  course  the  results  were 
declared;  and  the  small  school  which  gained  a 
large  percentage  of  Honourable  Mentions  was 
able  to  underline  the  factheavilyinitsprospect- 
us.  These  examinations  were,  if  not  organised, 
at  least  recognised  by  the  State;  and  once  they 
had  pierced  the  battlements  of  a  school  an  In- 
spector invariably  crawled  through  the  breach 
after  them.  Henceforth  that  school  was  subject 
to  periodical  visitations  and  reports. 

N  aturally  the  H  eadmasters  of  the  great  pub- 
lic schools  clanged  their  gates  and  dropped 
their  portcullises  against  such  an  infraction  of 
the  law  that  a  Headmaster's  school  is  his  castle. 
But,  as  already  mentioned,  the  screw  was  ap- 
plied. The  certificates  awarded  to  successful 
candidates  in  these  examinations  were  made 

24 


THE    HEADMASTER 

the  key  to  higher  things.  Three  Higher  Grade 
Certificates,  for  instance,  were  accepted  in  licit 
of  certain  subjects  in  Oxford  Smalls  and  Cam- 
bridge Little-go.  The  State  pounced  upon  this 
principle  and  extended  it.  The  acquisition  of  a 
sufficient  number  of  these  certificates  nowpaved 
the  way  to  various  State  services.  Extra  marks 
or  special  favours  were  awarded  to  young  gen- 
tlemen who  presented  themselves  for  Sand- 
hurst or  Woolwich  or  the  Civil  Service  brinpf- 
ing  their  sheaves  with  them  in  the  form  of 
Certificates.  Roughly  speaking,  the  more  Cert- 
ificates a  candidate  produced  the  more  enthus- 
iastically he  was  excused  from  the  necessity  of 
learning  the  elements  of  his  trade. 

The  governingbodies  of  various  professions 
took  up  the  idea.  For  instance,  if  you  produc- 
ed four  Higher  Certificates — say  for  Geogra- 
phy, Botany,  Electro-Dynamics, and  Practical 
Cookery — you  were  excused  the  preliminary 
examination  of  the  Society  of  Chartered  Ac- 
countants. (We  need  not  pin  ourselves  down  to 
the  absolute  accuracy  of  these  details:  they  are 
merely  for  purposes  of  illustration.)  Anyhow,  it 
was  a  beautiful  idea.  A  Headmaster  of  my  ac- 
quaintance once  assured  me  that  he  believed 
that  the  possession  of  a  complete  set  of  Higher 

25 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

Grade  Certificates  for  all  the  Local  Examin- 
ations of  a  single  year  would  entitle  the  holder 
to  a  seat  in  the  reformed  House  of  Lords. 

In  other  words,  it  was  still  possible  to  get  into 
the  Universities  and  Services  without  Certific- 
ates, but  it  was  very  much  easier  to  get  in  with 
them. 

So  the  great  Headmasters  climbed  down. 
But  they  made  terms.  They  would  accept  the 
Local  Examinations,  and  they  would  admit  In- 
spectors within  their  fastnesses;  but  they  re- 
spectfully butfirmly  insisted  upon  having  some 
sort  of  say  in  the  choice  of  the  Inspector. 

The  Government  met  them  more  than  half- 
way. In  fact,  they  fell  in  with  the  plan  with 
suspicious  heartiness. 

"Certainly,  my  dear  sir,"  they  said:  "you 
shall  choose  your  own  Inspector;  and  what  is 
more,  you  shall /^_y  him!  Think  of  that!  The 
man  will  be  a  mere  tool  in  your  hands — a  hired 
servant — and  you  can  do  what  you  like  with 
him." 

It  was  an  ingenious  and  comforting  way  of 
putting  things,  and  may  be  commended  to  the 
notice  of  persons  writhing  in  a  dentist's  chair; 
for  it  forms  an  exact  parallel:  the  description 
applies  to  dentist  and  inspector  equally.  How- 

26 


THE    HEADMASTER 

ever,  the  Headmasters  agreed  to  it;  and  now 
all  our  great  schools  receive  inspectorial  visit- 
ations of  some  kind.  That  is  to  say,  upon  an  ap- 
pointed date  a  gentleman  comes  down  from 
London,  spends  the  day  as  the  guest  of  the 
Headmaster;  and  after  being  conducted  about 
the  premises  from  dawn  tilldusk,  departs  in  the 
gloaming  with  his  brain  in  a  fog  and  some  six- 
teen guineas  in  his  pocket. 

He  is  a  variegated  type,  thisSuper-Inspect- 
or.  Frequently  he  is  a  clever  man  who  has 
failed  as  a  schoolmaster  and  now  earns  a  com- 
fortable livincT  because  he  remembered  in  time 
the  truth  of  the  saying:  La  critique  est  aisd, 
Cart  dijficile.  More  often  he  is  a  superannuated 
University  professor,  with  a  penchant  for  irrel- 
evant anecdote  and  a  disastrous  sense  of  hum- 
our. Sometimes  he  is  aggressive  and  dict- 
atorial, but  more  often  (humbly  remembering 
where  he  is  and  who  is  going  to  pay  for  all  this) 
apprehensive,  deferential,  and  quite  inarticul- 
ate. Sometimes  he  is  a  scholar  and  a  gentle- 
man, with  a  real  appreciation  of  the  atmosphere 
of  a  public  school  and  a  sound  knowledge  of  the 
principles  of  education.  But  not  always.  And 
whoever  he  is  and  whatever  he  is,  the  Head 
loathes  him  impartially  and  dispassionately. 
27 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

Such  are  some  of  the  thorns  with  which  the 
pillow  of  a  modern  Headmaster  is  stuffed.  His 
greatest  stumbling-block  is  Tradition — the 
hoary  edifices  of  convention  and  precedent, 
built  up  andjealously  guarded  by  Old  Boys  and 
senior  Housemasters.  Of  Parents  we  will  treat 
in  another  place. 

What  is  he  like,  the  Headmaster  of  to-day? 

Firstly  and  essentially,  he  is  no  longer  a  des- 
pot. He  is  a  constitutional  sovereign,  like  all 
other  modern  monarchs;  andperhaps  itisbetter 
so.  Though  a  Head  still  exercises  enormous 
personal  power,  for  good  or  ill,  a  school  no 
longer  stands  or  falls  by  its  Headmaster,  as  in 
the  old  days,  any  more  than  a  countrystands  or 
falls  by  its  King,  as  in  the  days  of  the  Stuarts. 
Public  opinion,  Housemasters,  the  prefectorial 
system — these  have  combined  to  modify  his 
absolutism.  But  though  a  bad  Headmaster 
may  not  be  able  to  wreck  a  good  school,  it  is 
certain  that  no  school  can  ever  become  sfreat, 
or  remain  great,  without  a  great  man  at  the 
head  of  it. 

Time  has  wrought  other  changes.  Twenty 
years  ago  no  man  could  ever  hope  to  reach  the 
summit  of  the  scholastic  universe  who  was  not 
in  Orders  and  the  possessor  of  a  First  Class 

28 


THE    HEADMASTER 

Classical  degree.  Now  the  layman,  ihe  modern- 
side  man,  above  all  the  man  of  affairs,  are  rais- 
in^f  their  heads. 

Under  these  new  conditions,  what  manner  of 
man  is  the  great  Head  of  to-day? 

He  is  essentially  a  man  of  business.  A  clear 
brain  and  a  sense  of  proportion  enable  him  to 
devise  schemes  of  education  in  which  the  old 
idealism  and  the  new  materialism  are  judici- 
ously blended.  He  knows  how  to  draw  up  a 
school  time-table — almost  as  difficult  and  com- 
plicated a  document  as  Bradshaw — making 
provision,  hour  by  hour,  day  by  day,  for  the 
teaching  of  a  very  large  number  of  subjects  by 
a  limited  number  of  men  to  some  hundreds  of 
boys  all  at  different  stages  of  progress,  in  such 
a  way  that  no  boy  shall  be  left  idle  for  a  single 
hour  and  no  master  be  called  upon  to  be  in  two 
places  at  once. 

He  understands  school  finance  and  educ- 
ational politics,  which  are  even  more  peculiar 
than  British  party  politics.  He  combines  the 
art  of  being  able  to  rule  upon  his  own  initiative 
for  months  at  a  time,  and  yet  render  a  satisfact- 
ory account  of  his  stewardship  to  an  ignorant 
and  inquisitive  Governing  Body  which  meets 
twice  a  year. 
29 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

He  is,  as  ever,  an  imposing  figure-head;  and 
if  he  is,  or  has  been,  an  athlete,  so  much  the 
easier  for  him  in  his  deaHngswith  the  boys.  He 
possesses  the  art  of  managing  men  to  an  extent 
sufficient  to  maintain  his  Housemasters  in 
some  sort  of  Hne,  and  to  keep  his  junior  staff 
punctual  and  enthusiastic  without  fussing  or 
herding  them .  H  e  is  a  good  speaker,  and  though 
not  invariably  in  Orders,  he  appreciates  the 
enormous  influence  that  a  powerful  sermon  in 
Chapel  may  exercise  at  a  time  of  crisis;  and  he 
supplies  that  sermon  himself. 

He  keeps  a  watchful  eye  upon  an  army  of 
servants,  and  does  not  shrink  from  the  drudg- 
ery of  going  through  kitchen-accounts  or  laun- 
dry estimates.  He  investigates  complaints  per- 
sonally, whether  they  have  to  do  with  a  H  ouse's 
morals  or  a  butler's  perquisites. 

He  keeps  abreast  of  the  educational  needs 
of  the  time.  He  is  2.  persona  grata  at  the  Uni- 
versities,and  usually  knows  at  whichUniversity 
and  at  which  College  thereof  one  of  his  boys 
will  be  mostlikelytowinascholarship.  Inthe  in- 
terests of  the  Army  Class  he  maintains  friend- 
ly relations  with  the  War  Office,  because,  in 
these  days  of  the  chronic  reform  of  that  instit- 
ution, to  be  in  touch  with  the  "permanent"  mil- 

30 


THE    HEADMASTER 

itary  mind  is  to  save  endless  trouble  over  ex- 
aminations which  are  going  to  be  dropped  or 
schedules  which  are  about  to  be  abandoned 
before  they  come  into  operation.  He  cultivates 
the  acquaintance  of  those  in  high  places,  not  for 
his  own  advancement,  but  because  it  isgood  for 
the  School  to  be  able  to  bring  down  an  occa- 
sional celebrity,  to  present  prizes  or  open  a  new 
winor.  Por  the  same  reason  he  dines  out  a  eood 
deal — often  when  he  has  been  on  his  feet  since 
seven  o'clock  in  the  morning — and  entertains 
in  return,  so  far  as  he  can  afford  it,  people  who 
are  likely  to  be  able  to  do  the  School  a  good 
turn.  For  with  him  it  is  the  School,  the  School, 
the  School,  all  the  time. 

If  he  possesses  private  means  of  his  own,  so 
much  the  better;  for  the  man  with  a  little  spare 
money  in  his  pocket  possesses  powers  of  lever- 
age denied  to  the  man  who  has  none.  I  know  of 
a  Headmaster  whoonce  shamed  hisGovernine 
Body  into  raisingthe  salaries  ofthe  Junior  Staff 
to  a  decent  standard  by  supplementing  those 
salaries  out  of  his  own  slender  resources  for 
something  like  five  years. 

And  above  all,  he  has  sympathy  and  insight. 
When  a  master  or  boy  comes  to  him  with  a 

grievance  he  knows  whether  he  is  dealing  with 

->  ■ 


?i 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

a  chronic  grumbler  or  a  wronged  man.  The 
grumbler  can  be  pacified  by  a  word  or  chast- 
ened by  a  rebuke  ;  but  a  man  burning  under 
a  sense  of  real  injustice  and  wrong  will  never  be 
efficient  again  until  his  injuries  are  redressed. 
If  a  colleague,  again,  comes  to  him  with  a 
scheme  of  work,  or  organisation,  or  even  play, 
he  is  quick  to  see  how  far  the  scheme  is  valuable 
and  practicable,  and  how  far  it  is  mere  fuss  and 
officiousness.  He  is  enormously  patient  over 
this  sort  of  thing,  for  he  knows  that  an  untimely 
snub  may  kill  the  enthusiasm  of  a  real  worker, 
and  that  a  little  encouragement  may  do  won- 
ders for  a  diffident  beginner.  He  knows  howto 
stimulate  the  slacker,  be  he  boy  or  master;  and 
he  keeps  a  sharp  look-out  to  see  that  the  wil- 
ling horse  does  not  overwork  himself  (This 
latter,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  is  the  harder  task 
of  the  two.)  And  he  can  read  the  soul  of  that 
most  illegible  of  books— save  to  the  understand- 
ing eye — the  boy,  through  and  through.  He 
can  tell  if  a  boy  is  lying  brazenly,  or  lying  be- 
cause he  is  frightened,  or  lying  to  screen  a 
friend,  or  speaking  the  truth.  He  knows  when 
to  be  terrible  in  anger,  and  when  to  be  indes- 
cribably gentle. 

Usually  he  is  slightly  unpopular.     But  he 

32 


<^./tl»\\\J^ 


THE  SCHOOLBOY  OF  FICTION 


THE    HEADMASTER 

does  not  allow  this  to  trouble  him  overmuch, 
for  he  is  a  man  who  is  content  to  wait  for  his 
reward.  He  remembers  the  historic  verdict  of 
"A  beast,  but  a  just  beast,"  and  chuckles. 

Such  a  man  is  an  Atlas,  holding  up  a  little 
world.  He  is  always  tired,  for  he  can  never 
rest.  His  so-called  hours  of  ease  are  clogged  by- 
correspondence,  most  of  it  quite  superfluous, 
and  the  telephone  has  added  a  new  terror  to  his 
life.  But  he  is  always  cheerful, even  when  alone; 
and  he  loves  his  work.  If  he  did  not,  it  would 
kill  him. 

A  Headmaster  no  longer  regards  his  office 
as  a  stepping-stone  to  a  Bishopric.  In  the  near 
future,  as  ecclesiastical  and  classical  traditions 
fade,  that  office  is  more  likely  to  be  regarded  as 
a  qualification  for  a  place  at  the  head  of  a  De- 
partment of  State,  or  a  seat  in  the  Cabinet.  A 
man  who  can  run  a  great  public  school  can  run 

an  Empire. 


33 


CHAPTER    TWO 
THE    HOUSEMASTER 


CHAPTER  TWO 

THE  HOUSEMASTER 

TO  THE  BOY,  ALL  MASTERS  (AS 
distinct  from  The  Head)  consist  of  one  class — 
namely,  masters.  The  fact  that  masters  are 
divisible  into  grades,  or  indulge  in  acrimonious 
diversities  of  opinion,  or  are  subject  to  the 
ordinary  weaknesses  of  the  flesh  (apart  from 
chronic  shortness  of  temper)  has  never  occurr- 
ed to  him. 

This  is  not  so  surprising  as  it  sounds.  A 
schoolmaster's  life  is  one  long  pose.  His  per- 
petual demeanour  is  that  of  a  blameless  en- 
thusiast. A  boy  never  hears  a  master  swear — 
at  least,  not  if  the  master  can  help  it;  heseldom 
sees  him  smoke  or  drink;  he  never  hears  him 
converse  upon  any  but  regulation  topics,  and 
then  only  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  rather 
bigoted  archaneel.  The  idea  that  a  master  in 
his  private  capacity  may  go  to  a  music-hall,  or 
back  a  horse,  or  be  casual  in  his  habits,  or  be 
totally  lacking  in  religious  belief,  would  be  quite 
a  shock  to  a  boy. 

It  is  true  that  when  half-a-dozen  ribald  spir- 
its are  gathered  round  the  Lower  Study  fire 
after  tea,  libellous  tongues  are  unloosed.  The 
humorist  of  the  party  draws  joyous  pictures  of 

37 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

his  Housemaster  staggering  home  to  bed  after 
a  riotous  evenino^  with  an  Archdeacon,  or  beinof 
thrown  out  of  the  Empire  in  the  holidays.  But 
no  one  in  his  heart  takes  these  legends  seri- 
ously — least  of  all  their  originator.  They  are 
merely  audacious  irreverences. 

All  day  and  every  day  the  boy  sees  the  mas- 
ter, impeccably  respectable  in  cap  and  gown, 
rebuking  the  mildest  vices,  extolling  the  dull- 
est virtues,  singing  the  praises  of  industry  and 
application,  and  attending  Chapel  morning  and 
evening.  A  boy  has  little  or  no  intuition:  he 
judges  almost  entirely  by  externals.  To  him  a 
master  is  not  as  other  men  are:  he  is  a  special 
type  of  humanity  endowed  with  a  permanent 
bias  towards  energetic  respectability,  and  grot- 
esquely ignorant  of  the  seamy  side  of  life.  The 
latter  belief  in  particular  appears  to  be  quite  in- 
eradicable. 

But  in  truth  the  scholastic  hierarchy  is  a  most 
complicated  fabric.  At  the  summit  of  the  Uni- 
verse stands  the  Head.  After  him  come  the 
senior  masters — or,  as  they  prefer  somewhat 
invidiously  to  describe  themselves,  the  perman- 
ent staff — then  the  junior  masters.  The  whole 
body  are  divided  and  subdivided  again  into  lit- 
tle groups — classical  men,  mathematical  men, 

38 


THE    HOUSEMASTER 

science  men,  and  modern-lancruaore  men — each 
group  with  its  own  particular  axe  to  grind  and 
its  own  tender  spots. Then  follow  various  spec- 
ialists, not  always  resident;  men  whose  life  is 
one  long  and  usually  ineffectual  struggle  to  con- 
vince the  School — including  the  Head — that 
music,  drawing,  and  the  arts  generally  are  sub- 
jects which  ought  to  be  taken  seriously,  even 
under  the  British  educational  system. 

As  already  noted,  after  the  Head — quite  lit- 
erally— come  the  Housemasters.  They  are  al- 
ways after  him:  one  or  other  of  the  troop  is  per- 
petually on  his  trail;  and  unless  the  great  man 
displays  the  ferocity  of  the  tiger  or  the  wisdom 
of  the  serpent,  they  harry  him  exceedingly. 

Behold  him  undergoing  his  daily  penance — 
in  audience  in  his  study  after  breakfast.  To  him 
enter  severally: 

A.,  a  patronising  person,  with  a  few  helpful 
suggestions  upon  the  general  management  of 
the  School.  He  usually  begins:  "In  the  old 
Head's  day,  we  never,  under  any  circumstanc- 

es 

B.,  whose  speciality  is  to  discover  motes  in 
the  eyes  of  other  Housemasters.  He  announces 
that  yesterday  afternoon  he  detected  a  member 
of  the  Eleven  fielding  in  a  Panama  hat.  "Are 

39 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

Panama  hats  permitted  by  the  statutes  of  the 
School?  I  need  hardly  say  that  the  boy  was  not 
a  member  of  my  House." 

C,  a  wobbler,  who  seeks  advice  as  to  wheth- 
er an  infraction  of  one  of  the  rules  of  his  H  ouse 
can  best  be  met  by  a  hundred  lines  of  Vergil  or 
public  expulsion, 

D.,  a  Housemaster  pure  and  simple,  urging 
the  postponement  of  the  Final  House- Match, 
D.'s  best  bowler  having  contracted  an  ingrow- 
ing toe-nail. 

E.,  another,  insisting  that  the  date  be  adher- 
ed to — for  precisely  the  same  reason. 

(He  receives  no  visitfromF.,  who  holds  that 
a  Housemaster's  House  is  his  castle, and  would 
as  soon  think  of  coming  to  the  fountain-head 
for  advice  as  he  would  of  following  the  advice 
if  it  were  offered.) 

G.,  an  alarmist,  who  has  heard  a  rumour  that 
smallpox  has  broken  out  in  the  adjacent  village, 
and  recommends  that  the  entire  school  be  vac- 
cinated forthwith. 

H.,  a  golfer,  suggesting  a  half-holiday,  to 
celebrate  some  suddenly  unearthed  annivers- 
ary in  the  annals  of  Country  or  School. 

Lastly,  on  the  telephone,  I.,  a  valetudinarian, 
to  announce  that  he  is  suffering  from  double 

40 


THE    HOUSEMASTER 

pneumonia,  and  will  be  unable  to  come  into 
School  until  after  luncheon. 

To  be  quite  just,  I.  is  the  rarest  bird  of  all. 
The  averaore  schoolmaster  has  a  perfect  pass- 
ion for  sticking  to  his  work  when  utterly  unfit 
for  it.  In  this  respect  he  differs  materially  from 
his  pupil,  who  lies  in  bed  in  the  dawning  hours, 
cudgelling  his  sleepy  but  fertile  brain  for  a  dis- 
ease which 

(i)  Has  not  been  used  before. 

{2)  Will  incapacitate  him  for  work  all  morn- 


ing. 


(3)  Will  not  prevent  him  playing  football  in 
the  afternoon. 

But  if  a  master  sprains  his  ankle,  he  hobbles 
about  his  form-roomon  a  crutch. If  he  contracts 
influenza,  he  swallows  a  jorum  of  ammoniated 
quinine,  puts  on  three  waistcoats,  and  totters 
into  school,  where  he  proceeds  to  disseminate 
germs  among  his  not  ungrateful  charges.  Even 
if  he  is  rendered  speechless  by  tonsillitis,  he 
takes  his  form  as  usual,  merely  substituting 
written  invective  (chalked  up  on  the  black- 
board), for  the  torrent  of  verbal  abuse  which  he 
usually  employs  as  a  medium  of  instruction. 

It  is  all  part — perhaps  an  unconscious  part — 
of  his  permanent  pose  as  an  apostle  of  what  is 

41 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

strenuous  and  praiseworthy.  It  is  also  due  to  a 
profound  conviction  that  whoever  of  his  col- 
leagues is  told  off  to  take  his  form  for  him  will 
indubitably  undo  the  work  ofmany  years  within 
a  few  hours. 

Besides  harrying  the  head  and  expostulating 
with  one  another,  the  Housemasters  wa^e  un- 
ceasing  war  with  the  teaching  staff 

The  bone  of  contention  in  every  case  is  a 
boy,  and  the  combat  always  follows  certain 
well-defined  lines. 

A  form-master  overtakes  a  Housemaster 
hurrying  to  morning  chapel,  and  inquires  care- 
lessly: 

"By  the  way,  isn't  Binks  tertius  your  boy?" 

The  Housemaster  guardedly  admits  that 
this  is  so. 

"Well,  do  you  mind  if  I  flog  him?" 

"Oh,  come,  I  say,  isn't  that  rather  drastic? 
What  has  he  done?" 

"Nothing  —  not  a  hand's-turn  —  for  six 
weeks." 

"Um!"  The  Housemaster  endeavours  to 
look  severely  judicial.  "Young  Binks  is  rather 
an  exceptional  boy, "heobserves.(Young  Binks 
always  is.)  "Are  you  quite  sure  you>^;/<9zc;him?" 

The  form-master,  who  has  endured  Master 

42 


THE    HOUSEMASTER 

B inks'  society  for  nearly  two  years,  and  knows 
him  only  too  well,  laughs  caustically. 

"Yes,"  he  says,  "I  do  know  him:  and  I  quite 
agree  with  you  that  he  is  rather  an  exceptional 
boy." 

"Ah!"says  the  Housemaster,  falling  into  the 
snare.   "Then " 

"An  exceptional  young  swab,"  explains  the 
form-master. 

By  this  time  they  have  entered  the  Chapel, 
where  they  revert  to  their  daily  task  of  setting 
an  example  by  howling  one  another  down  in 
the  Psalms. 

After  Chapel  the  Housemaster  takes  the 
form-master  aside  and  confides  to  him  the  in- 
telligence that  he  has  been  a  Housemaster  for 
twenty-five  years.  The  form-master,  suppress- 
ing an  obvious  retort,  endeavours  to  return  to 
the  question  of  Binks;  but  is  compelled  instead 
tolisten  toa  brief  homily  upon  themanagement 
of  boys  in  general.  As  neither  gentleman  has 
breakfasted,  the  betting  as  to  which  will  lose 
his  temper  first  is  almost  even,  with  odds  slight- 
ly infavour  of  the  form-master,  beingtheyoung- 
er  and  hungrier  man.  However,  it  is  quite  cer- 
tain that  one  of  them  will — probably  both.  The 
light  ofreason  being  thus  temporarily  obscured, 
43 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

they  part,  to  meditate  further  repartees  and 
complain  bitterly  of  one  another  to  their  coll- 


eacrues. 


But  it  is  very  seldom  that  Master  Binks  pro- 
fitsbysuch  Olympian  differences  as  these.  Poss- 
ibly the  Housemaster  may  decline  to  give  the 
form-master  permission  to  flog  Binks,  but  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  being  nothing  if  not  con- 
scientious, he  flogs  Binks  himself,  carefully  ex- 
plaining to  the  form-master  afterwards,  by  im- 
plication only,  that  he  has  done  so  not  from 
conviction,  but  from  an  earnest  desire  to  bols- 
terup  the  authority  of  an  inexperienced  and  in- 
competent colleague.  But  these  quibbles, as  al- 
ready observed,  do  not  help  the  writhing  Binks 
at  all. 

However,  a  Housemaster  contra  mundum, 
and  a  Housemaster  in  his  own  House, are  very 
different  beings.  We  have  already  seen  that 
a  bad  Headmaster  cannot  always  prevent  a 
School  from  being  good.  But  a  House  stands  or 
falls  entirely  by  its  Housemaster.  If  he  is  a 
good  Housemaster  it  is  a  good  House:  if  not, 
nothing  can  save  it.  And  therefore  the  respons- 
ibility of  a  Housemaster  far  exceeds  that  of  a 
Head. 

Consider.      He  is  in  loco  parentis — with 

44 


THE    HOUSEMASTER 

apologies  to  Stalky  I — to  some  forty  or  fifty  of 
the  shyest  and  most  reserved  animals  in  the 
world;  one  and  all  animated  by  a  single  desire 
— namely,  to  prevent  any  fellow-creature  from 
ascertaining  what  is  at  the  back  of  their  minds. 
Schoolgirls,  we  are  given  to  understand,  are 
prone  to  open  their  hearts  to  one  another,  or  to 
some  favourite  teacher,  with  luxurious  aban- 
donment. Not  so  boys.  Up  to  a  point  they  are 
frankness  itself:  beyond  that  point  lie  depths 
which  can  only  be  plumbed  by  instinct  and  in- 
tuition— qualities  whose  possession  is  the  only 
test  of  a  born  Housemaster.  All  his  flock  must 
be  an  open  book  to  him:  he  must  understand 
both  its  collective  and  its  individual  tenden- 
cies. If  a  boy  is  inert  and  listless,  the  House- 
master must  know  whether  his  condition  is  due 
to  natural  sloth  or  some  secret  trouble,  such  as 
bullying  or  evil  companionship.  Ifa  boy  appears 
dour  and  dogged,  the  Housemaster  has  to  de- 
cide whether  he  is  shy  or  merely  insolent. 
Private  tastes  and  pet  hobbies  must  also  be 
borne  in  mind.  The  complete  confidence  of  a 
hitherto  unresponsive  subject  can  often  be  won 
by  a  tactful  reference  to  music  or  photography. 
The  Housemaster  must  be  able,  too,  to  distin- 
guish between  brains  and  mere  precocity,  and 

45 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

to  separate  the  fundamentally  stupid  boy  from 
the  lazy  boy  who  is  pretending  to  be  stupid — 
an  extremely  common  type.  He  must  cultivate 
a  keen  nose  for  the  malingerer,  and  at  the  same 
time  keep  a  sharp  look-out  for  fear  lest  the  con- 
scientious plodder  should  plod  himself  silly.  He 
must  discriminate  between  the  whole-hearted 
enthusiast  and  the  pretentious  humbug  who 
simulates  keenness  in  order  to  curry  favour. 
And  above  all,  he  must  make  allowances  for 
heredity  and  home  influence.  Many  a  House- 
master has  been  able  to  adjust  his  perspective 
with  regard  to  a  boy  by  remembering  that  the 
boy  has  a  drunken  father,  or  a  neurotic  mother, 
or  no  parents  at  all. 

He  must  keep  a  light  hand  on  House  politics, 
knowing  everything,  yet  doing  little,  and  say- 
ing almost  nothing  at  all.  If  a  Housemaster 
be  blatantly  autocratic;  if  he  deputes  power  to 
no  one;  if  he  prides  himself  upon  his  iron  dis- 
cipline ;  if  he  quells  mere  noise  with  savage 
ferocity  and  screws  down  the  safety-valve  im- 
placably upon  healthy  ragging,  he  will  reap  his 
reward.  He  will  render  his  House  quiet,  obe- 
dient— and  furtive.  Under  such  circumstances 
prefects  are  a  positive  danger.  Possessing  spe- 
cial privileges,  but  no  sense  of  responsibility, 

46 


THE    HOUSEMASTER 

they  regard  their  office  merely  as  a  convenient 
and  exclusive  avenue  to  misdemeanour. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  Housemaster  must  not 
allow  his  prefects  unlimited  authority,  or  he 
will  cease  to  be  master  in  his  own  House.  In 
other  words,  he  must  strike  an  even  balance 
between  sovereign  and  deputed  power — an 
undertaking  which  has  sent  dynasties  toppling 
before  now. 

In  addition  to  all  this,  he  must  be  an  Admir- 
able Crichton.  Whatever  his  own  particular 
teaching  subject  may  be,  he  will  be  expected, 
within  the  course  of  a  single  evening's  "prep," 
to  be  able  to  unravel  a  knotty  passage  in  yEsch- 
ylus,  "  unseen,"  solve  a  quadratic  equation  on 
sight,  compose  a  chemical  formula,  or  complete 
an  elegiac  couplet.  He  must  also  be  prepared 
at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night  to  explain  how 
leg-breaks  are  manufactured,  recommend  a  list 
of  novels  for  the  House  library,  set  a  broken 
collar-bone,  solve  ajig-saw  puzzle  in  the  Sick- 
room, assist  an  Old  Boy  in  the  choice  of  a 
career,  or  prepare  a  candidate  for  Confirmation 
And  the  marvel  is  that  he  always  does  it — in 
addition  to  his  ordinary  day's  work  in  school. 

And  what  is  his  remuneration?  One  of  the 
rarest  and  most  precious  privileges  that  can  be 

47 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 
granted  to  an  Englishman — the  privilege  of 
keeping  a  public  house! 

Let  me  explain.  For  the  first  twenty  years 
of  his  professional  career  a  schoolmaster  works 
as  a  mere  instructor  of  youth.  By  day  he  teach- 
es his  own  particular  subject;  by  night  he  looks 
over  proses  or  corrects  algebra  papers.  In  his 
spare  time  he  imparts  private  instruction  to 
backward  boys  or  scholarship  candidates.  Pro- 
bably he  bears  a  certain  part  in  the  supervision 
of  the  School  games.  He  is  possibly  treasurer 
of  one  or  two  of  the  boys'  own  organisations — 
the  Fives  Club  or  the  Debating  Society — and 
as  a  rule  he  is  permitted  to  fill  up  odd  moments 
by  sub-editing  the  School  magazine  or  organ- 
ising sing-songs.  He  cannot  as  a  rule  afford  to 
marry;  so  he  lives  the  best  years  of  his  life  in 
two  rooms,  looking  forward  to  the  time,  in  the 
dim  and  hypothetical  future,  when  he  will  poss- 
ess what  the  ordinary  artisan  usually  acquires 
on  passing  out  of  his  teens — a  home  of  his  own. 

At  length,  after  many  days,  provided  that  a 
sufficient  number  of  colleagues  die  or  get  super- 
annuated, comes  his  reward,  and  he  enters  up- 
on the  realisation  of  his  dreams.  He  is  now  a 
Housemaster,  with  every  opportunity  (and  full 
permission)  to  work  himself  to  death. 

48 


mi:  oaredkvil 


j_ewis      [i  Ai^Mcf  Pv,- 


THE    HOUSEMASTER 

Still,  you  say,  the  labourer  is  worthy  of  his 
hire.  A  man  occupying  a  position  so  onerous 
and  responsibleas  this  will  be  well  remunerated. 

What  is  his  actual  salary? 

In  many  cases  he  receives  no  salary,  as  a 
Housemaster,  at  all.  Instead,  he  is  accorded 
the  privilege  of  running  his  new  home  as  a  com- 
bined lodging-house  and  restaurant.  His  spare 
time  (which  the  reader  will  have  gathered  is 
more  than  considerable)  is  now  pleasantly  oc- 
cupied in  purchasing  beef  and  mutton  and  sell- 
ing them  to  Binks  tertius.  As  his  tenure  of  the 
House  seldom  exceeds  ten  or  fifteen  years,  he 
has  to  exercise  considerable  commercial  enter- 
prise in  order  to  make  a  sufficient  "pile"  to  re- 
tire upon — as  Binks  tertius  sometimes  discov- 
ers to  his  cost.  In  other  words,  a  scholar  and 
gentleman's  reward  for  a  life  of  unremitting 
labour  in  one  of  the  most  exacting  yet  altruistic 
fields  in  the  world  is  a  licence  to  enrich  himself 
for  a  period  of  years  by  "cornering"  the  daily 
bread  of  the  pupils  in  his  charge.  And  yet  we 
feel  surprised,  and  hurt,  and  indignant,  when 
foreigners  suggest  that  we  are  a  nation  of  shop- 
keepers. 

The  life  of  a  Housemaster  is  a  livino-  ex- 
ample  of  the  lengths  to  which  the  British  pass- 
49  D 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

ion  for  undertaking  heavy  responsibilities  and 
thankless  tasks  can  be  carried.  Daily,  hourly, 
he  finds  himself  in  contact  (and  occasional  coll- 
ision) with  boys — boys  for  whose  moral  and 
physical  welfare  he  is  responsible;  who  in  theory 
at  least  will  regard  him  as  their  natural  enemy; 
and  who  occupy  the  greater  part  of  their  leisure 
time  in  criticising  and  condemning  him  and 
everything  that  is  his — his  appearance,  his 
character,  his  voice,  his  wife;  the  food  that  he 
provides  and  the  raiment  that  he  wears.  He  is 
harried  by  measles,  mumps,  servants,  trades- 
men, and  parents.  He  feels  constrained  to  in- 
vite every  boy  in  his  House  to  a  meal  at  least 
once  a  term,  which  means  that  he  is  almost 
■  daily  deprived  of  the  true-born  Briton's  birth- 
right of  being  uncommunicative  at  breakfast. 
His  life  is  one  long  round  of  colourless  routine, 
tempered  by  hair-bleaching  emergencies. 

But  he  loves  it  all.  He  maintains,  and  ultim- 
ately comes  to  believe,  that  his  House  is  the 
only  House  in  the  School  in  which  both  justice 
and  liberty  prevail,  and  his  boys  the  only  boys 
in  the  world  who  know  the  meaning  of  hard 
work,  good  food,  and  esprit  de  corps.  He  pities 
all  other  Housemasters,  and  tells  them  so  at 
frequent  intervals;  and  he  expostulates  pater- 

50 


THE    HOUSEMASTER 

nally  and  sorrowfully  with  form-masters  who 
vilify  the  members  of  his  cherished  flock  in  half- 
term  reports. 

And  his  task  is  not  altogether  thankless.  J  ust 
as  the  sun  never  sets  upon  the  British  Empire, 
so  it  never  sets  upon  all  the  Old  Boys  of  a  great 
public  school  at  once.  They  are  gone  out  into 
all  lands:  they  are  upholding  the  honour  of  the 
School  all  the  world  over.  And  wherever  they 
are — London,  Simla,  Johannesburg,  Nairobi, 
or  Little  Pedlington  Vicarage — they  never  lose 
touch  with  their  old  Housemaster.  His  corres- 
pondence is  enormous;  it  weighs  him  down :  but 
he  would  not  relinquish  a  single  picture  post- 
card of  it.  He  knows  that  wherever  two  or  three 
of  his  Old  Boys  are  gathered  together,  be  it  in 
Bangalore  or  Buluwayo,  the  talk  will  always 
drift  round  in  time  to  the  old  School  and  the 
old  House.  They  will  refer  to  him  by  his  nick- 
name— 'Towser,"  or  "Potbelly,"  or  "Swivel- 
Eye," — and  reminiscences  will  flow. 

"Do  you  remember  the  old  man's  daily  gibe 
when  he  found  us  chucking  bread  at  dinner? 
'Hah!  There  will  be  a  bread  pudding  to- 
morrow!'" 

"Do  you  remember  the  jaw  hegave  uswhen 
the  news  came  about  Macpherson's  V.C.?" 

51 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

"Do  you  remember  his  Sunday  trousers? 
Oh,  Lord!" 

"Do  you  remember  how  he  tanned  Goat 
Hicks  for  calling  The  Frog  a  ^^^/z(9«f  Fourteen, 
wasn  t  itr 

"Do  you  remember  the  grub  he  gave  the 
whole  House  the  time  we  won  the  House-match 
by  one  wicket,  with  Old  Mike  away?" 

"Do  you  remember  how  he  broke  down  at 
prayers  the  night  little  Martin  died?" 

"  Do  you  remember  his  apologising  to  that 
young  swine  Sowerby  before  the  whole  House 
for  losing  his  temper  and  clouting  him  over  the 
head?  That  must  have  taken  some  doing.  We 
rooted  Sowerby  afterwards  for  grinning." 

"I  always  remember  the  time,"  interpolates 
one  of  the  group,  "when  he  scored  me  off  for 
roller-skating  on  Sunday." 

"How  was  that?" 

"Well,  it  was  this  way.  I  had  got  leave  of 
morning  Chapel  on  some  excuse  or  other,  and 
was  skating  up  and  down  the  Long  Corridor, 
having  a  grand  time.  The  old  man  came  out  of 
his  study — I  thought  he  was  in  Chapel — and 
growled,  looking  at  me  over  his  spectacles — 
you  remember  the  way? " 

"Yes, rather.   Goon!" 

52 


THE    HOUSEMASTER 

"He  growled: — *Boy,do  you  consider  roller- 
skating  a  Sunday  pastime?'  I,  of  course,  looked 
a  fool,  and  said,  'No,  sir.'  'Well,'  chuckled  the 
old  bird,  'I  do:  but  I  always  make  a  point  of 
respecting  a  man's  religious  scruples.  I  will 
therefore  confiscate  your  skates.'  And  he  did! 
He  gave  them  back  to  me  next  day,  though." 

"I  always  remember  him, "says  another, "the 
time  I  nearly  got  sacked.  By  rights  I  ought  to 
have  been,  but  I  believe  hegotmeoffat  thelast 
moment.  Anyhow,  he  called  me  into  his  study 
and  told  me  I  wasn't  to  go  after  all.  He  didn't 
jaw  me,  but  said  I  could  take  an  hour  off  school 
and  go  and  telegraph  home  that  things  were  all 
right.  My  people  had  been  having  a  pretty  bad 
time  over  it,  I  knew,  and  so  did  he.  Iwaspretty 
near  blubbing,  but  I  held  out.  Then,  just  as  I 
got  to  the  door,  he  called  me  back.  I  turned 
round,  rather  in  a  funk  that  the  jaw  was  coming 
after  all.   But  he  growled  out: — 

'"It's  a  bit  late  in  the  term.  The  exchequer 
may  be  low.  Here  is  sixpence  for  the  tele- 
gram.' 

"This  time  I  did  blub.  Not  one  man  in  a 
million  would  have  thought  of  the  sixpence. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  fourpence-halfpenny  was 
all  I  had  in  the  world." 

53 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

And  so  on.  His  ears — especially  his  right 
ear — must  be  burning  all  day  long. 

Of  course  all  Housemasters  are  not  like  this. 
If  you  want  to  hear  about  the  other  sort,  take 
up  The  Lanchester  Tradition,  by  Mr.  G.  F. 
Bradby,  and  make  the  acquaintance  of  Mr. 
Chowdler — an  individual  example  of  a  great 
type  run  to  seed.  And  there  is  Dirty  Dick,  in 
The  Hill. 

•  •  •  •  •  • 

When  he  has  fulfilled  his  allotted  span  as  a 
Housemaster,  our  friend  retires  —  not  from 
school-mastering, but  from  the  provision  trade. 
With  his  hardly-won  gains  he  builds  himself  a 
house  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  school,  and 
lives  there  in  a  state  cAotiumciimdignitate.  He 
still  takes  his  form:  he  continues  to  do  so  until 
old  age  descends  upon  him,  or  a  new  broom  at 
the  head  of  affairs  makes  a  clean  sweep  of  the 
"permanent"  staff. 

He  is  mellower  now.  He  no  longer  washes 
his  hands  of  all  responsibility  for  the  methods 
of  his  colleagues,  or  thanks  God  that  his  boys 
are  not  as  other  masters'  boys  are.  He  does  not 
altogether  enjoy  his  work  in  school:  he  is  gett- 
ing a  little  deaf,  and  is  inclined  to  be  testy.  But 

54 


THE    HOUSEMASTER 

teachinofis  his  meat  and  his  drink  and  his  father 
and  his  mother.  He  sticks  to  it  because  it  holds 
him  to  Hfe. 

Though  elderly  now,  he  enjoys  many  of  the 
pleasures  of  middle  age.  For  instance,  he  has 
usually  married  late,  so  his  children  are  still 
young;  and  he  is  therefore  spared  the  pain, 
which  most  parents  have  to  suffer,  of  seeing  the 
brood  disperse] ust  when  it  begins  to  be  needed 
most.  Or  perhaps  he  has  been  too  devoted  to 
his  world-wide  family  of  boys  to  marry  at  all.  In 
that  case  he  lives  alone;  but  you  may  be  sure 
that  his  spare  bedroom  is  seldom  empty.  No 
Old  Boyevercomes  home  from  abroadwithout 
paying  a  visitto  his  former  Housemaster.  Rich, 
poor,  distinguished,  or  obscure — they  all  come. 
They  tell  him  of  their  adventures;  they  recall 
old  days;  they  deplore  the  present  condition  of 
the  School  and  the  degeneracy  of  the  Eleven; 
they  fight  their  own  battles  over  again.  They 
confide  in  him.  They  tell  him  things  they  would 
never  tell  their  fathers  or  their  wives.  They 
bring  him  their  ambitions,  and  their  failures — 
not  their  successes;  those  are  for  others  to  speak 
of — even  their  love-affairs.  And  he  listens  to 
them  all,  and  advises  them  all,  this  very  tender 
and  very  wise  old  Ulysses.  To  him  they  are 

55 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

but  boys  still,  and  he  would  not  have  them  oth- 
erwise. 

"The  heart  of  a  Boy  in  the  body  of  a  Man," 
he  says — "that  is  a  combination  which  can  nev- 
er o-o  wronof.  If  I  have  succeeded  in  effecting 
that  combination  in  a  single  instance,  then  I 
have  not  run  in  vain,  neither  laboured  in  vain." 


CHAPTER    THREE 
SOME    FORM-MASTERS 


CHAPTER  THREE 

SOME         FORM-MASTERS 

NUMBER  ONE  THE  NOVICE 

ARTHUR  ROBINSON,  B.A.,  LATE  Ex- 
hibitioner of  St.  Crispin's  College,  Cambridge, 
having  obtained  a  First  Class,  Division  Three, 
in  the  Classical  Tripos,  came  down  from  the 
University  at  the  end  of  his  third  year  and  de- 
cided to  devote  his  life  to  the  instruction  of 
youth. 

In  order  to  gratify  this  ambition  as  speedily 
as  possible,  he  applied  to  a  scholastic  agency 
for  an  appointment.  He  was  immediately  furn- 
ished with  type-written  notices  of  some  thirty 
or  forty.  Almost  one  and  all,  they  were  for 
schools  which  he  had  never  heard  of;  but  the 
post  in  every  case  was  one  which  the  Agency 
could  unreservedly  recommend.  At  the  foot  of 
each  notice  was  typed  a  strongly  worded  appeal 
to  him  to  write  {at  once)  to  the  Headmaster, 
explaining  first  and  foremost  that  he  had  heard 
of  this  vacancy  thj'otcgh  our  Agency.  After  that 
he  was  to  state  his  degree  {if  any);  if  a  ??te?nber 
of  the  Church  of  England;  if  ivilling  to  part- 
icipate in  School  games;  if  7misical;  and  so  on. 
He  was  advised,  if  he  thought  it  desirable,  to 
enclose  a  photograph  of  himself. 

59 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

A  further  sheaf  of  such  notices  reached  him 
every  morning  for  about  two  months;  but  as 
none  of  them  offered  him  more  than  a  hundred- 
and-twenty  pounds  a  year,  and  most  of  them 
a  good  deal  less,  Arthur  Robinson,  who  was  a 
sensible  young  man,  resisted  the  temptation, 
overpowering  to  most  of  us,  of  seizing  the  very 
first  opportunity  of  earning  a  salary,  however 
small,  simply  because  he  had  never  earned  any- 
thing before,  and  allowed  the  notices  to  accum- 
ulate  upon  one  end  of  his  mantelpiece. 

Finally  he  had  recourse  to  his  old  College 
tutor,  who  advised  him  of  a  vacancy  at  Eagles- 
cliffe,  a  great  public  school  in  the  west  of  Eng- 
land, and  by  a  timely  private  note  to  the  Head- 
master secured  his  appointment. 

Next  morning  Arthur  Robinson  received 
from  the  directorate  of  the  scholastic  agency — 
the  existence  of  which  he  had  almost  forgotten 
— a  rapturous  letter  of  congratulation,  remind- 
ing him  that  the  Agency  had  sent  him  notice 
of  the  vacancy  upon  a  specified  date,  and  delic- 
ately intimating  that  their  commission  of  five 
per  cent,  upon  the  first  year's  salary  was  pay- 
able on  appointment.  Arthur,  who  had  long 
since  given  up  the  task  of  breasting  the  Agen- 
cy's morningtide  of  desirable  vacancies, mourn- 

60 


SOME  FORM-MASTERS 

fully  investigated  the  heap  upon  the  mantel- 
piece, and  found  that  the  facts  were  as  stated. 
There  lay  the  notice,  sandwiched  between  a 
document  relating  to  the  advantages  to  be  de- 
rived from  joining  the  staff  of  a  private  school 
in  North  Wales,  where  material  prosperity  was 
guaranteed  by  a  salary  of  eighty  pounds  per 
annum,  and  social  success  by  the  prospect  of 
meat-tea  with  the  Principal  and  his  family;  and 
another,  in  which  a  clergyman  (retired)  required 
a  thoughtful  and  energetic  assistant  (one  hun- 
dred pounds  a  year,  non-resident)  to  aid  him  in 
the  management  of  a  small  but  select  seminary 
for  backward  and  epileptic  boys. 

Arthur  laid  the  matter  before  his  tutor,  who 
informed  him  that  he  must  pay  up,  and  be  a 
little  less  casual  in  his  habits  in  future.  He 
therefore  wrote  a  reluctant  cheque  for  ten 
pounds,  and  having  thus  painfully  imbibed  the 
first  lesson  that  a  schoolmaster  must  learn — 
namely,  the  importance  of  attending  to  details 
— departed  to  take  up  his  appointment  at 
Eaglescliffe. 

He  arrived  the  day  before  term  began,  to 
find  that  lodgings  had  been  apportioned  tohim 
at  a  house  in  the  village,  half  a  mile  from  the 
School.  H  is  first  evening  was  spent  in  making 
6i 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 
the  place  habitable.  That  is  to  say,  he  removed 
a  number  of  portraits  of  his  landlady's  relatives 
from  the  walls  and  mantelpiece,  and  stored 
them,  together  with  a  collection  of  Early  Vic- 
torian heirlooms — wool-mats  and  prism-laden 
glass  vases — in  a  cupboard  under  the  window- 
seat.  In  their  place  he  set  up  fresh  gods;  in- 
numerable signed  photographs  of  young  men, 
some  in  frames,  some  in  rows  along  conveni- 
ent ledges,  others  bunched  together  in  a  sort  of 
wire  entanglement  much  in  vogue  among  the 
undergraduates  of  that  time.  Some  of  these 
photographs  were  mounted  upon  light-blue 
mounts,  and  these  were  placed  in  the  most  con- 
spicuous position.  Upon  the  walls  he  hung  a 
collection  of  framed  groups  of  more  young 
men,  with  bare  knees  and  severe  expressions, 
in  some  of  which  Arthur  Robinson  himself 
fip-ured. 

After  that,  having  written  to  his  mother  and 
a  girl  in  South  Kensington,  he  walked  up  the 
hill  in  the  darkness  to  the  Schoolhouse,  where 
he  was  to  be  received  in  audience  by  the  Head. 

The  great  man  was  sitting  at  ease  before  his 
study  fire,  and  exhibited  unmistakable  signs  of 
recent  slumber. 

"I  want  you  to  take  Remove  B,  Robinson," 

62 


SOME  FORM-MASTERS 
he  said.  "They  are  a  mixed  lot.  About  a  quar- 
ter of  them  are  infant  prodigies — Foundation 
Scholars — who  m.ike  this  form  their  starting- 
point  for  higher  things;  and  the  remainder  are 
centenarians,  who  regard  Remove  B  as  a  sort 
of  scholastic  Chelsea  Hospital,  and  are  fully 
prepared  to  end  their  days  there.  Stir  'em  up, 
and  don't  let  them  intimidate  the  small  boys  in- 
to a  low  standard  of  work.  Their  subjects  this 
term  will  be  Cicero  de  Se^iectute  and  the  j-Ucest- 
is,  without  choruses.  Have  you  any  theori'^s 
about  the  teaching  of  boys?" 

"None  whatever,"  replied  Arthur  Robinson 
franklv. 

"Good!  There  is  only  one  way  to  teach 
boys.  Keep  them  in  order:  don't  let  them  play 
the  fool  or  go  to  sleep;  and  they  will  be  so 
bored  that  they  will  work  like  niggers  merely 
to  pass  the  time.  That's  education  in  a  nut- 
shell. Good  night!" 

Next  morning  Arthur  Robinson  invested 
himself  in  an  extremely  new^  B.A.  gown,  which 
seemed  very  long  and  voluminous  after  the 
tattered  and  attenuated  oarment  which  he  had 
worn  at  Cambridge — usually  twisted  into  a 
muffler  round  his  neck — and  walked   up  to 

63 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

School.  (It  was  the  last  time  he  ever  walked: 
thereafter,  for  many  years,  he  left  five  minutes 
later,  and  ran.)  Timidly  he  entered  the  Com- 
mon Room.  It  was  full  of  masters,  some  twenty 
or  thirty  of  them,  old,  young,  and  middle-aged. 
As  many  as  possible  were  grouped  round  the 
fire — not  in  the  orderly,   elegant  fashion  of 
grown-up  persons;  but  packed  together  right 
inside  the  fender,  with  their  backs  against  the 
mantelpiece.    Nearly  everyone   was  talking, 
and  hardly  anyone  was  listening  to  anyone 
else.  Two  or  three — portentously  solemn  eld- 
erly men  —  were  conferring  darkly  together 
in  a  corner.  Others  were  sitting  upon  the  table 
or  arms  of  chairs,  reading  newspapers,  mostly 
aloud.  No  one  took  the  slightest  notice  of  Ar- 
thur Robinson,  who  accordingly  sidled  into  an 
unoccupied  corner  and  embarked  upon  a  self- 
conscious  study  of  last  term's  time-table. 

"I  hear  they  have  finished  the  new  Squash 
Courts,"  announced  a  big  man  who  was  almost 
sitting  upon  the  fire.  "Take  you  on  this  after- 
noon, Jacker?" 

"Haveyou  got  a  court?"  inquired  the  gende- 
man  addressed. 

"Not  yet,  but  I  will.  Who  is  head  of  Games 
this  term?" 

64 


IHE  I.LNCHEON  INTKRVAL  : 

!•.  .1;  1 1;  \i  I  ..)    \  i;i.\  riiMAN  WHO  ii.\v  ><((>KKi' I  irn  ki  \^ 


i^CisA/ts      3-^^  ^  ^K^ 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 

"Etheringrton  major,  I  think." 

"Good  Lord!  He  can  hardly  read  or  write, 
much  less  manage  anything.  I  wonder  why 
boys  always  make  a  point  ofelectingcongenital 
idiots  to  their  responsible  offices.  Warwick, 
isn't  old  Etherington  in  your  House?" 

"He  is,"  replied  Warwick,  looking  up  from 
a  newspaper. 

"Just  tell  him  I  want  a  Squash  Court  this 
afternoon,  will  you?" 

"I  am  not  a  District  Messenger  Boy,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Warwick  coldly.  Then  he  turned  up- 
on a  colleague  who  was  attempting  to  read  his 
newspaper  over  his  shoulder. 

"Andrews,"  he  said,  "if  you  wish  to  read  this 
newspaper  I  shall  be  happy  to  hand  it  over  to 
you.  I  f  not,  I  shall  be  grateful  if  you  will  refrain 
from  masticating  your  surplus  breakfast  in  my 
right  ear." 

Mr.  Andrews,scarlet  with  indignation, moved 
huffily  away,  and  the  conversation  continued. 

"I  doubt  if  you  will  get  a  court,  Dumaresq," 
said  another  voice — a  mild  one.  "I  asked  for 
one  after  breakfast,  and  Etherington  said  they 
were  all  bao-cred." 

o  o 

"Well,  I  call  that  the  limit!"  bellowed  that 
single-minded  egotist,  Mr.  Dumaresq. 

65  E 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

"After  all,"  drawled  a  supercilious  man 
sprawling  across  a  chair,  "the  courts  were  built 
for  the  boys,  weren't  they?" 

"They  may  have  been  built  for  the  boys," 
retorted  Dumaresq  with  heat,  "but  they  were 
more  than  half  paid  for  by  the  masters.  So  put 
that  in  your  pipe,  friend  Wellings,  and " 

"Your  trousers  are  beginning  to  smoke,"  in- 
terpolated Wellings  calmly.  "You  had  better 
come  out  of  the  fender  for  a  bit  and  let  me 
m. 

So  thebabble  went  on.  To  ArthurRobinson, 
still  nervously  perusing  the  time-table,  it  all 
sounded  like  an  echo  ofthe  talk  which  had  pre- 
vailed in  the  Pupil  Room  at  his  own  school 
barely  five  years  ago. 

Presently  a  fresh-faced  elderly  man  crossed 
the  room  and  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"You  must  be  Robinson,"  he  said.  "My 
name  is  Pollard,  also  of  St.  Crispin's.  Come  and 
dine  with  me  to-night,  and  tell  me  how  the  old 
College  is  getting  on." 

The  ice  broken,  the  grateful  Arthur  was  in- 
troduced to  some  of  his  colleagues,  including 
the  Olympian  Dumaresq,  the  sarcastic  Well- 
ings, and  the  peppery  Warwick.  Next  moment 
a  bell  began  to  ring  upon  the  other  side  of  the 

66 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 

quadrangle,  as  there  was  a  general  move  for  the 
door. 

Outside,  Arthur  Robinson  encountered  the 
Head. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Robinson!"  (It  was  a 
little  affectation  of  the  Head's  to  address  his 
colleagues  as  'Mr.'  when  in  cap  and  gown:  at 
other  times  his  key-note  was  informal  bon- 
homie).  "Have  you  your  form-room  key?" 

"Yes,  I  have." 

"In  that  case  I  will  introduce  you  to  your 
flock." 

At  the  end  ofthe  Cloisters,  outside  the  locked 
door  of  Remove  B,  lounged  some  thirty  young 
gentlemen.  At  the  sight  of  the  Head  these 
ceased  to  lounge,  and  came  to  an  attitude  of  un- 
easy attention. 

The  door  being  opened,  all  filed  demurely  in 
and  took  their  seats,  looking  virtuously  down 
their  noses.  The  Head  addressed  the  intensely 
respectable  audience  before  him. 

"This  is  Mr.  Robinson,"  he  said  gruffly. 
"Do  what  you  can  for  him." 

He  nodded  abruptly  to  Robinson,  and  left 
the  room. 

As  the  door  closed,  the  angel  faces  of  Re- 
move B  relaxed. 
67 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

"A-a-a-a-a-ah!"  said  everybody,  with  a  sigh 
of  intense  relief. 

Let  us  follow  the  example  of  the  Head,  and 
leave  Arthur  Robinson,  for  the  present,  to 
struggle  in  deep  and  unfathomed  waters. 

NUMBER  TWO  THE  EXPERTS 
MR.  DUMARESQ  WAS  REPUTED  TO 
be  the  hardest  slave-driver  in  Eaglescliffe.  His 
eyes  were  cold  and  china  blue,  and  his  voice 
was  like  the  neighing  of  a  war-horse.  He  dis- 
approved of  the  system  of  locked  form-rooms 
— it  wasted  at  least  forty  seconds,  he  said,  get- 
ting the  boys  in — so  he  made  his  head  boy  keep 
the  key  and  open  the  door  the  moment  the 
clock  struck. 

Consequently,  when  upon  this  particular 
morning  Mr.  Dumaresq  stormed  into  his  room, 
every  boy  was  sitting  at  his  desk. 

"Greek  prose  scraps!"  he  roared,  while  still 
ten  yards  from  the  door. 

Instantly  each  boy  seized  a  sheet  of  school 
paper,  and  having  torn  it  into  four  pieces  sel- 
ected one  of  the  pieces  and  waited,  pen  in 
hand. 

''If you  do  this,''  announced  Mr.  Dumaresq 

68 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 

truculently,  as  he  swung  into  the  doorway, 
''yoti  will  be  wise.'' 

Every  boy  began  to  scribble  madly. 

^*' If  you  do  not  do  this,''  continued  Mr.  Dum- 
aresq,  ''you  zvill  not  be  wise.  If  you  were  to 
do  this  you  would  be  wise.  If  you  were  not  to 
do  this  you  would  not  be  wise.  If  you  had  done 
this  you  would  have  been  wise.  If  yoji  had 
not  done  this  you  would  not  have  been  wise. 
Collect!" 

The  head  boy  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  fever- 
ishly dragging  the  scraps  from  under  the  hands 
of  his  panting  colleagues,  laid  them  on  the 
master's  desk.  Like  lightning  Mr.  Dumaresq 
looked  them  over. 

"Seven  of  you  still  ignorant  of  the  construc- 
tion of  the  simplest  conditional  sentence!"  he 
bellowed.  "Come  in  this  afternoon!" 

He  tossed  the  papers  back  to  the  head  boy. 
Seven  of  them  bore  blue  crosses,  indicating  an 
error.  There  may  have  been  more  than  one  mis- 
take in  the  paper,  but  one  was  always  enough 
for  Mr.  Dumaresq. 

"Now  sit  close!"  he  commanded. 

"Sitting  close"  meant  leaving  comparatively 
comfortable  and  secluded  desks,  and  crowding 
in  a  congested  mass  round  the  blackboard,  in 
69 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

such  wise  that  no  eye  could  rove  or  mouth  gape 
without  instant  detection. 

"  Viva  voce  Latin  Elegiacs!"  announced  Mr. 
Dumaresq,  with  enormous  enthusiasm.  He  de- 
claimed the  opening  couplet  of  an  English  lyr- 
ic. "Now  throw  that  into  Latin  form.  Adam- 
son,  I'm  speaking  to  you!  Don't  sit  mooning 
there,  gaper.  Think!  Think! 
Come,  lasses  and  /ads,  get  leave  of  your  dads — 
Come  on,  man,  come  on! 

— And  away  to  the  maypole,  hey! 
Say  something!  Wake  up!  How  are  you  going 
to  get  over  'maypole?  No  maypoles  in  Rome. 
Tell  him,  somebody!  '  Saturnalia' — not  bad. 
(Crabtree,  stand  up  on  the  bench,  and  look  at 
me,  not  your  boots.)  Why  won't  'Saturnalia' 
do?  Will  it  scan?  Thinkl  Come  along,  come 
along  r 

In  this  fashion  he  hounded  his  dazed  pupils 
through  couplet  after  couplet,  until  the  task 
was  finished.  Then,  dashing  at  the  blackboard, 
he  obliterated  the  result  of  an  hour's  labour 
with  a  sweep  of  the  duster. 

"Now  go  to  your  desks  and  write  out  a  fair 
copy,"  he  roared  savagely. 

So  effective  were  Mr.  Dumaresq's  methods 
of  inculcation  that  eighteen  out  of  his  thirty 

70 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 

boyssucceeded  in  producingflawless  fair  copies. 
The  residue  were  ferociously  bidden  to  an  "ex- 
tra" after  dinner.  Mr.Dumaresq's  "extras'were 
famous.  He  held  at  least  one  every  day,  not 
infrequently  for  the  whole  form.  He  possessed 
the  one  priceless  attribute  of  the  teacher:  he 
never  spared  himself.  Other  masters  would  set 
impositions  or  give  a  boy  the  lesson  to  write 
out :  Dumaresq,  denying  himself  cricket  or 
squash,  would  come  into  his  form-room  and 
wrestle  with  perspiring  defaulters  all  during  a 
hot  afternoon  until  the  task  was  well  and  truly 
done.  Boys  learned  more  from  him  in  one  term 
than  from  any  other  master  in  a  year;  but  their 
days  were  but  labour  and  sorrow.  During  the 
previous  term  a  certain  particularly  backward 
member  of  his  form  had  incurred  some  damage 
— to  wit,  a  fractured  collar-bone — during  the 
course  of  a  house-m.atch.  The  pain  was  consid- 
erable, and  when  dragged  from  the  scrummage 
he  was  in  a  half-fainting  condition.  He  revived 
as  he  was  being  carried  to  the  Sanatorium. 

"What's  up?"  he  inquired  mistily. 

"Broken  neck,  inflammation  of  the  lungs, 
ringworm,  and  leprosy,  old  son,"  announced 
one  of  his  bearers  prompdy.  "You  aregoing  to 
the  San." 

71 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

"Good  eggY'  replied  the  injured  warrior. 
"I  shall  get  off  Dummy's  extra  after  tea!" 

Then  with  a  contented  sigh,  he  returned  to 
a  state  of  coma. 

•  ••••• 

By  way  of  contrast,  Mr.  Cayley. 

As  Mr.  Cayley  approached  his  form-room, 
which  lay  round  a  quiet  corner,  he  was  made 
aware  of  the  presence  of  his  pupils  by  sounds 
of  turmoil;  but  being  slightly  deaf,  took  no 
particular  note  of  the  fact.  Presently  he  found 
himself  engulfed  in  a  wave  of  boys,  each  of 
whom  insisted  upon  shaking  him  by  the  hand. 
Some  of  them  did  so  several  times,  but  Mr. 
Cayley,  whom  increasingyears  had  rendered  a 
trifle  dim-sighted,  did  not  observe  this.  Cheer- 
ful greetings  fell  pleasantly  but  confusedly  up- 
on his  ears. 

"How  do  you  do,  sir?  Welcome  back  to 
another  term  of  labour,  sir!  Very  well,  no  thank 
you!  Stop  shoving,  there!  Don't  you  see  you 
are  molesting  Mr.  Methuselah  Cayley,  M.A.? 
Permit  me  to  open  the  door  for  you,  sir!  Now 
then,  all  together!  Use  your  feet  a  bit  more  in 
the  scrum!" 

By  this  time  the  humorist  of  the  party  had 
possessed  himself  of  the  key  of  the  door;  but 

72 


SOME   FORM-MASTERS 

having  previously  stopped  up  the  keyhole  with 
paper,  was  experiencing  some  difficulty  in  in- 
serting the  key  into  the  lock. 

"Make  haste,  Woolley,"  said  Mr.  Cayley 
gently. 

"I  fear  the  porterhas  inserted  some  obstruc- 
tion into  the  interstices  of  the  aperture,  sir," 
explained  Master  Woolley,  in  a  loud  and  re- 
spectful voice.  "He  bungs  up  the  hole  in  the 
holidays — to  keep  the  bugs  from  getting  in," 
he  concluded  less  audibly. 

"What  was  that,  Woolley?"  asked  Mr.  Cay- 
ley, thinking  he  had  not  heard  aright. 

Master  Woolley  entered  with  relish  upon 
one  of  the  standard  pastimes  of  the  Upper 
Fourth. 

"I  said  some  good  tugs  would  get  us  in,  sir," 
he  replied,  raising  his  voice,  and  pulling  paper 
out  of  the  lock  with  a  buttonhook. 

Mr.  Cayley,  who  knew  that  his  ears  were  as 
untrustworthy  as  his  eyes,  but  fondly  imagined 
that  his  secret  was  his  own,  now  entered  his 
form-room  upon  the  crest  of  a  boisterous  wave 
composed  of  his  pupils,  who,  having  deposited 
their  preceptor  upon  his  rostrum,  settled  down 
in  their  places  with  much  rattling  of  desks  and 
banging  of  books. 

73 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

Mr.  Cay  ley  next  proceeded  to  call  for  sil- 
ence, and  when  he  thought  he  had  succeeded, 
said: 

*'As  our  new  Latin  subject  books  have  not 
yet  been  distributed,  I  shall  set  you  a  short  pass- 
age of  unprepared  translation  this  morning." 

"Would  it  not  be  advisable,  sir,"  suggested 
the  head  boy — the  Upper  Fourth  addressed 
their  master  with  a  stilted  and  pedantic  preci- 
osity of  language  which  was  an  outrageous  par- 
ody of  his  own  courtly  and  old-fashioned  utter- 
ance— "to  take  down  our  names  and  ages,  as  is 
usually  your  custom  at  the  outset  of  your  infer- 
nal havers?" 

"Of  what,  Adams?" 

"Of  your  termly  labours,  sir,"  said  Adams, 
raising  his  voice  courteously. 

Mr.  Cayley  acquiesced  in  this  proposal,  and 
the  form,  putting  their  feet  up  on  convenient 
ledges  and  producingrefreshmentfromthesec- 
ret  recesses  oftheir  persons,  proceeded  to  crack 
nuts  and  jokes,  while  their  instructor  laboured 
with  studious  politeness  to  extract  from  them  in- 
formation as  to  their  initials  and  length  ofdays. 
It  was  not  too  easy  a  task,  for  every  boy  in  the 
room  was  conversing,  and  not  necessarily  with 
his  next-door  neighbour.  Once  a  Liddell  and 

74 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 
Scott  lexicon  (medium  size)  hurtled  through 
space  and  fell  with  a  crash  upon  the  floor. 

Mr.  Cayley  looked  up. 

"Someone,"he  remarked  with  mild  severity, 
"is  throwing  india-rubber." 

Name-taking  fmished,  he  made  another  at- 
tempt to  revert  to  the  passage  of  unprepared 
translation.  But  a  small  boy,  with  appealing 
eyes  and  a  wistful  expression,  rose  from  his  seat 
and  timidly  deposited  a  large  and  unclean  ob- 
ject upon  Mr.  Cayley's  desk. 

"I  excavated  this  during  the  holidays,  sir,"  he 
explained;  "and  thinkingitwould  interestyou.I 
madeapointofpreservingit  for  your  inspection." 

Instant  silence  fell  upon  the  form.  Skilfully 
handled,  this  new  diversion  was  good  for  quite 
half  an  hour's  waste  of  time. 

"This  is  hardly  the  moment,  Benton,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Cayley,  "for  a  disquisition  on  geo- 
logy, but  I  appreciate  your  kindness  in  thinking 
of  me.  I  will  examine  this  specimen  this  after- 
noon, and  classify  it  for  you." 

But  Master  Benton  had  no  intention  of  per- 
mittinor  this. 

"Does  it  belong  to  the  glacial  period,  sir?" 
he  inquired  shyly.  "I  thought  these  marks 
might  have  been  caused  by  ice-pressure." 

75 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

There  was  a  faint  chuckle  at  the  back  of  the 
room.  It  proceeded  from  the  gentleman  whose 
knife  Benton  had  borrowed  ten  minutes  before 
in  order  to  furnish  support  for  his  glacial  theory. 

"It  is  impossible  for  me  to  say  without  my 
magnifying-glass," replied  Mr.  Cayley,  peering 
myopically  at  the  stone.  "But  from  a  cursory 
inspection  I  should  imagine  this  particular  spec- 
imen to  be  of  an  igneous  nature.  Where  did  you 
get  it?" 

"In  the  neck!"  volunteered  a  voice. 

Master  Benton,  whose  cervical  vertebrae  the 
stone  had  nearly  severed  in  the  course  of  a 
friendly  interchangeof  missiles  withaplaymate 
while  walking  up  to  school,  hastened  to  cover 
the  interruption. 

"Among  the  Champion  Pills,  sir,"  he  an- 
nounced gravely. 

"The  Grampian  Hills?"  said  Mr.  Cayley, 
greatly  interested.  He  nodded  hishead.  "That 
may  be  so.  Geologically  speaking,  some  of 
these  hills  were  volcanoes  yesterday." 

"There  was  nothing  about  it  in  the  Daily 
Mail  this  morning,"  objected  a  voice  from  the 
back  benches. 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  said  Mr.  Cayley, look- 
ing up. 

76 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 

"It  sounds  like  a  fairytale,  sir,"  amended  the 
speaker. 

"And  so  it  is!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Cayley,  the 
geologist  in  him  aroused  at  last.  "The  whole 
history  of  Natureis  a  fairytale.  Castyourminds 
back  for  a  thousand  centuries."  .  .  , 

The  form  accepted  this  invitation  to  the  ex- 
tent of  dismissing  the  passage  of  unprepared 
translation  from  their  thoughts  for  ever,  and 
settling  down  with  a  grateful  sigh,  began  to 
search  their  pockets  for  fresh  provender.  The 
seraph-like  Benton  slipped  back  into  his  seat. 
His  mission  was  accomplished.  The  restof  the 
hour  was  provided  for. 

Three  times  in  the  past  five  years  Mr.  Cay- 
ley's  colleagues  had  offered  to  present  him 
with  a  testimonial.  He  could  never  understand 
why. 

Mr.  Bull  was  a  young  master,  and  an  inter- 
national football-player.  Being  one  of  the  few 
members  of  the  staff  at  Eaglescliffewhodidnot 
possess  a  first-class  degree,  he  had  been  en- 
trusted with  the  care  of  the  most  difficult  form 
in  the  school — the  small  boys,  usually  known 
as  The  Nippers. 

A  small  boy  is  as  different  from  a  middle- 

11 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 
sized  boy  as  chalk  from  cheese.  He  possesses 
none  of  the  latter's  curious  dignity  and  self-con- 
sciousness. He  has  the  instincts  of  the  puppy, 
and  appreciates  being  treated  as  such.  That  is 
to  say,  he  is  physically  incapable  of  sitting  still 
for  more  than  fifteen  minutes  at  a  time;  he  is 
never  happy  except  in  the  company  of  a  drove 
of  other  small  boys;  and  he  is  infinitely  more 
amenable  to  \h&fortUer  in  7'e  than  to  the  suav- 
iterhi  modo^'h^ve:  the  enforcementofdiscipline 
is  concerned.  Above  all,  he  would  rather  have 
his  head  smacked  than  be  ignored. 

Mr.  Bull  greeted  his  chattering  flock  with  a 
hearty  roar  of  salutation,  coupled  with  a  brisk 
command  to  them  to  get  into  their  places  and 
be  quick  about  it.  He  was  answered  by  a  shrill 
and  squeaky  chorus,  and  having  thrown  open 
the  form-room  door  herded  the  whole  swarm 
within,  assisting  stragglers  with  a  genial  cuff  or 
two;  the  which,  coming  from  so  great  a  hero, 
were  dulycherishedby  theirrecipients  as  marks 
of  special  favour. 

Having  duly  posted  up  thenames  and  tender 
ages  of  his  Nippers  in  his  mark-book,  Mr.  Bull 
announced: 

"Now  we  must  appoint  the  Cabinet  Minist- 
ers for  the  term." 

78 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 

Instantly  there  came  a  piping  chorus. 
"Please,  sir,  can  I  be  Scavenger?" 
"Please,  sir,  can  I  be  Obliterator?" 
"Please,  sir,  can  I  be  Window-opener?" 
"Please,  sir,  can  I  be  Inkslinger?" 
"Please,  sir,  can  I  be  Coalheaver?" 
"Shut  up!"  roared  Mr.  Bull,  and  the  babble 
was  quelled  instantly.   "We  will  draw  lots  as 
usual." 

Lots  were  duly  cast,  and  the  names  of  the 
fortunate  announced.  Mr.  Bull  was  not  a  ereat 
scholar:  some  of  the  "highbrow"  members  of 
the  Staff professedtodespise  his  humbleattain- 
ments.  But  he  understood  the  mind  of  extreme 
youth.  Tell  a  small  boy  to  pick  upwaste-paper, 
or  fill  an  inkpot,  or  clean  a  blackboard,  and  he 
will  perform  these  acts  ofdrudgery  with  natural 
reluctance  and  shirk  them  when  he  can.  But 
appoint  him  Lord  High  Scavenger,  or  Lord 
High  Inkslinger,  or  Lord  High  Obliterator, 
with  sole  rightto  perform  these  important  duties 
and  power  to  eject  usurpers,  and  he  will  value 
and  guard  his  privilegeswithalltheearnestness 
and  tenacity  of  a  permanent  official. 

Havinof  arrano^ed  his  executive  staff  to  his 
satisfaction,  Mr.  Bull  announced: — 


'We'll  do  a  little  English  literature  this 


79 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

morning,  and  start  fair  on  ordinary  work  this 
afternoon.  Sit  absolutely  still  for  ten  minutes 
while  I  read  to  you.  Listen  all  the  time,  for  I 
shall  question  you  when  I  have  finished.  After 
that  you  shallquestion  me — onequestion  each, 
and  mind  it  is  a  sensible  one.  After  that,  a 
breather;  then  you  will  write  out  in  your  own 
words  a  summary  of  what  I  have  read.  Atten- 
shunT 

He  read  a  hundred  lines  orso  oiTkePassing 
of  Arthur,  while  the  Nippers,  restraining  itch- 
ing hands  and  feet,  sat  motionless.  Then  foll- 
owed question  time,  which  was  a  lively  affair; 
for  questions  mean  marks,  and  Nippers  will  sell 
their  souls  for  marks.  Suddenly  Mr.  Bull  shut 
the  book  with  a  snap. 

"Out  you  get!"  he  said.  'The  usual  run — 
round  the  Founder's  Oak  and  straight  back. 
And  no  yelling,  mind!  Remember,  there  are 
others."  He  took  out  his  watch.  "I  give  you 
one  minute.  Any  boy  taking  longerwill  receive 
five   thousand  lines  and  a  public   flogging. 

Off!" 

There  was  a  sudden  unheaval,  a  scuttle  of 
feet,  and  then  solitude. 

The  last  Nipper  returned  panting,  with  his 
lungs  full  of  oxygen  and  the  fidgets  shaken  out 

80 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 

of  him, within  fifty-seven  seconds,and  thework 
of  the  hour  proceeded. 

Each  master  had  his  own  methods  of  main- 
taining discipline.  Mr.  WelHngs,  for  instance, 
ruled  entirely  by  the  lash  of  his  tongue.  A 
schoolboy  can  put  up  with  stripes,  and  he  rather 
relishes  abuse;  but  sarcasm  withers  him  to  the 
marrow.  In  this  respect  Mr.  Wellings'  reput- 
ation throughout  the  school — he  was  senior 
mathematical  master,  and  almost  half  the  boys 
passedthroughhishands — was  that  of  a  "chron- 
ic blister." 

Newcomers  to  his  sets,  who  had  hitherto  re- 
garded the  baiting  of  subject-masters  as  a  mild 
form  of  mental  recuperation  between  two  bouts 
of  the  Classics,  sometimes  overlooked  this  fact. 
If  they  had  a  reputation  for  lawlessness  to  keep 
uptheysometimes  endeavoured  to  make  them- 
selves obnoxious.  They  had  short  shrift. 

"Let  me  see,"  Wellings  would  drawl,  "I  am 
afraid  I  can't  recall  your  name  for  the  moment. 
Have  you  a  visiting  card  about  you?" 

Here  the  initiated  would  chuckle  with  anti- 
cipatory relish,  and  the  offender,  a  little  taken 
aback,  would  either  glare  defiantly  or  efface 
himself  behind  his  book. 
8i  F 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

"I  am  addressing  you,  sir — you  in  the  back 
bench,  with  the  intelligent  countenance  and  the 
black-edged  finger-nails, "Wellingswouldcon- 
tinue  in  silky  tones.  "I  asked  you  a  question 
just  now.  Have  you  avisiting  card  about  you?" 

A  thousand  brilliant  repartees  would  flash 
through  the  brain  of  the  obstreperous  one.  But 
somehow,  inWellings'  mild  and  apologetic  pres- 
ence, they  all  seemed  either  irrelevant  or  fatu- 
ous.  He  usually  ended  by  growling,  "No." 

"Then  what  is  your  name — or  possibly  title? 
Forgive  me  for  not  knowing." 

"Corbett."  It  is  extraordinary  how  ridiculous 
one's  surname  always  soundswhen  one  is  com- 
pelled to  announce  it  in  public. 

"Thank  you.  Will  you  kindly  stand  up,  Mr. 
Corbett,  in  order  that  we  may  study  you  in 
greater  detail?"  (Mr.Wellings  had  an  uncanny 
knack  of  enlisting  the  rest  of  the  form  on  his 
side  when  he  dealt  with  an  offender  of  this 
type.)  "I  must  apologise  for  not  having  heard 
of  you  before.  Indeed,  it  is  surprising  that  one 
of  your  remarkable  appearance  should  hitherto 
have  escaped  my  notice  in  my  walks  abroad. 
The  world  knows  nothing  of  its  greatest  men: 
how  true  that  is!  However,  this  is  no  time  for 
moralising.    What  I  wanted  to  bring  to  your 

82 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 

distinguished  notice  is  this — that  you  must  not 
behave  Hke  a  yahoo  in  my  mathematical  set. 
During  the  past  ten  minutes  you  have  kicked 
oneof  your  neighbours  and  cuffed  another:  you 
have  partaken  of  a  good  deal  of  unwholesome 
and  (as  it  came  out  of  your  pocket)  probably 
unclean  refreshment;   and  you  have  indulged 
inseveral  childishandobscenegestures.  These 
daredevil  exploits  took  place  while  I  was  writ- 
ing on  the  blackboard;  but  I  think  it  only  fair 
to  mention  to  you  that  I  have  eyes  in  the  back 
of  my  head — a  fact  upon  which  any  member 
of  this  set  could  have  enlightened  you.   But 
possibly  they  do  not  presume  to  address  a  per- 
son of  your  eminence.   Ihavenoidea,ofcourse, 
with  what  class  of  society  you  are  accustomed 
to  mingle;  but  here — here — that  sort  of  thing 
is  simply  not  done,  really!   I  am  so  sorry!   But 
the  hour  will  soon  be  over,  and  then  you  can  go 
and  have  a  nice  game  of  shove-halfpenny,  or 
whatever  your  favourite  sport  is,  in  the  gutter. 
But  at  present  I  must  ask  you  to  curb  your 
natural  instincts.    That  is  all,  thank  you  very 
much.  You  may  sit  down  now.  Observe  from 
time  to  time  the  demeanour  of  your  compan- 
ions, and  endeavour  to  learn  from  them.  They 
do  not  possess  your  natural  advantages  in  the 

83 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

way  of  brains  and  beauty,  but  their  manners 
are  better.   Let  us  now  resume  our  studies." 

Mr.  Wellings  used  to  wonder  plaintively  in 
the  Common  Room  why  his  colleagues  found 
it  necessary  to  set  so  many  impositions. 

•  ••••• 

Lastly,  Mr.  Klotz.  Mr.  Klotz  may  be  des- 
cribed as  a  Teutonic  survival — a  survival  of 
the  days  when  it  was  de  rigueur  to  have  the 
French  language  taught  by  a  foreignerof  some 
kind.  Not  necessarily  by  a  Frenchman — that 
would  have  been  pandering  too  slavishly  to 
Continental  idiosyncrasy — but  atleast  bysome 
one  who  couldonlyspeak  broken  English.  Mr. 
Klotz  was  a  Prussian,  so  possessed  all  the 
necessary  qualifications. 

His  disciplinary  methods  were  modelled 
upon  those  of  the  Prussian  Army,  of  which  he 
had  been  a  distinguished  ornament— a  fact  of 
which  he  was  fond  of  reminding  his  pupils,  and 
which  had  long  been  regarded  by  those  guile- 
less infants  as  oneof  the  most  valuable  weapons 
in  their  armoury  of  time- wasting  devices. 

Mr.  Klotz,  not  being  a  resident  master,  had 
no  special  classroom  or  key:  he  merely  visited 
each  form-room  in  turn.  He  expected  to  find 
every  boy  in  his  seat  ready  for  work  upon  his 

84 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 

arrival;  and  as  he  was  accustomed  to  enforce 
his  decrees  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet — or  its 
scholastic  equivalent — sharp  scouts  and  reli- 
able sentries  were  invariably  posted  to  herald 
his  approach. 

Behold  him  this  particular  morning  march- 
ing into  Remove  A  form-room,  which  was  situ- 
ated at  the  top  of  a  block  of  buildings  on  the 
south  side  of  the  quadrangle,  with  the  superb 
assurance  and  grace  of  a  Prussian  subaltern 
entering  a  beer-hall. 

Having  reached  his  desk,  Mr.  Klotz  ad- 
dressed his  pupils. 

"He  who  rount  the  corner  looked  when  op 
the  stairs  I  game,"  he  announced,  "efter  lonch 
gomshe!" 

The  form,  some  of  them  still  breathless  from 
their  interrupted  rag,  merely  looked  down  their 
noses  with  an  air  of  seraphic  piety. 

"Who  was  de  boy  who  did  dat?"  pursued 
Mr.  Klotz. 

No  reply. 

"Efter  lonch,"  trumpeted  Mr.  Klotz,  "goms 
eferypoty!" 

At  once  a  boy  rose  in  his  place.  His  name 
was  Tomlinson. 

"It  was  me,  sir,"  he  said. 

85 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

"Efterlonch," announced  Mr.  Klotz,  slight- 
ly disappointed  at  being  robbed  of  a  holo- 
caust, "goms  Tomleenson.  I  gif  him  irrecular 


verps  " 


Two  other  boys  rose  promptly  to  their  feet. 
Their  names  were  Pringle  and  Grant.  They 
had  not  actually  given  the  alarm,  but  they 
had  passed  it  on. 

"It  was  me  too,  sir,"  said  each. 

"Efter  lonch,"  amended  Mr.  Klotz,  "goms 
Tomleenson,  Brinkle,  unt  Grunt.  Now  I  take 
your  names  unt  aitches." 

This  task  accomplished,  Mr.  Klotz  was  upon 
the  point  of  taking  up  Chardenal'  s  First  French 
Course,  when  a  small  boy  with  a  winning  man- 
ner (which  he  wisely  reserved  for  his  dealings 
with  masters)  said  politely: — 

"Won't  you  tell  us  about  the  Battle  of  Sedan, 
sir,  as  this  is  the  first  day  of  term?" 

The  bait  was  graciously  accepted,  and  for 
the  next  hour  Mr.  Klotz  ranged  over  the  hist- 
oric battle-field.  It  appeared  that  he  had  been 
personally  responsible  for  the  success  of  the 
Prussian  arms,  and  had  been  warmly  thank- 
ed for  his  services  by  the  Emperor,  Moltke,  and 
Bismarck. 

"You  liddle  Engleesh  boys,"  he  concluded, 

86 


SOME   FORM-MASTERS 

"  you  think  your  Army  is  great.  In  my  gontry 
it  would  be  noding — noding!  Take  it  away! 
Vat  battles  has  it  fought,  to  compare " 

The  answer  came  red-hot  from  thirty  Brit- 
ish throats: 

"Waterloo!"  (There  was  no  "sir"  this  time.) 

"Vaterloo?"  replied  Mr.  Klotz  condescend- 
ingly. "Yes.  But  vere  would  your  Engleesh 
army  haf  been  at  Vaterloo  without  Blucher?" 
He  puffed  out  his  chest.  "Tellmedat,  Brinkle!" 

"Blucher,  sir?"  replied  Master  Pringle  de- 
ferentially. "Who  was  he,  sir?" 

"You  haf  not  heard  of  Blucher? "  gasped  Mr. 
Klotz  in  genuine  horror. 

The  form,  who  seldom  encountered  Mr. 
Klotz  without  hearing  of  Blucher,  shook  their 
heads  with  polite  regret.  Suddenlya  hand  shot 
up.  It  was  the  hand  of  Master  Tomlinson,  who 
it  will  be  remembered  had  already  burned  his 
boats  for  the  afternoon. 

"Do  you  mean  Blutcher,  sir?"  he  inquired. 

"Blutcher?  Himmel!  Nein!"  roared  Mr. 
Klotz.   "I  mean  Blucher." 

"I  expect  he  was  the  same  person,  sir,"  said 
Tomlinson  soothingly.  "I  remember  him  now. 
He  was  the  Russian  who " 

"Prussian!"  yelled  the  infuriated  Mr.  Klotz. 

8; 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

"Ibegyourpardon,sir — Prussian.  I  thought 
they  were  the  same  thing.  He  was  the  Prussian 
general  whom  Lord  WelHngton  was  relying  on 
to  back  him  up  at  Waterloo-  But  Blutcher — 
Blucher  lost  his  way — quite  by  accident,  of 
course — and  did  not  reach  the  field  until  the 
fight  was  over." 

"He  stopped  to  capture  a  brewery,  sir,  didn't 
he?"  queried  Master  Pringle,  coming  to  his  in- 
trepid colleague's  assistance. 

"It  was  bad  luck  his  arriving  late,"  added 
Tomlinson,  firing  his  last  cartridge;  "but  he 
managed  to  kill  quite  a  lot  of  wounded." 

Mr.  Klotzhad  only  one  retort  for  enterprises 
of  this  kind.  He  rose  stertorously  to  his  feet, 
crossed  the  room,  and  grasping  Master  Tom- 
linson by  the  ears,  lifted  him  from  his  seat  and 
set  him  to  stand  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  Then 
he  returned  for  Pringle. 

"You  stay  dere,"  he  announced  to  the  pair, 
"ontil  the  hour  is  op.  Efter  lonch " 

But  in  his  peregrinations  over  the  battle- 
field of  Sedan,  Mr.  Klotz  had  taken  no  note  of 
the  flight  of  time.  Even  as  he  spoke,  the  clock 
struck. 

"The  hour  is  up  now,  sir!"  yelled  the  de- 
lighted form. 

88 


THE  FRENCH  MASTER 
il)  I'ICTION,  (ll)  lACI 


v_e»j#5   -^h^iYtf^^ 


SOME    FORM-MASTERS 

And  they  dispersed  with  tumult,  congratul- 
ating Pringle  and  Tomlinson  upon  their  pluck 
and  themselves  upon  a  most  profitable  morn- 
ing. 

But  it  is  a  far  cry  to  Sedan  nowadays.  The 
race  of  Klotzes  has  perished,  and  their  place  is 
occupied  by  muscular  young  Britons,  who  have 
no  reminiscences  and  whose  pronunciation, 
both  of  English  and  German,  is  easier  to  un- 
derstand. 


CHAPTER    FOUR 
BOYS 


CHAPTER  FOUR  BOYS 

NUMBER  I.       THE  GOVERNMENT 

THERE'S  YOUR  JOURNEY  MONEY, 
Jackson.   Good-bye,  and  a  pleasant  holiday!" 

"Thank  you,  sir.  The  same  to  you!"  replies 
Jackson  dutifully. 

They  shake  hands,  and  the  Housemaster 
adds: — 

"By  the  way,  I  shall  want  youto  join  the  pre- 
fects next  term." 

"Me,  sir?  Oh!" 

"Yes.  Endeavour  to  get  accustomed  to  the 
idea  during  the  holidays.  It  will  make  a  big 
difference  in  your  life  here.  I  am  not  referring 
merely  to  sausages  for  tea.^  Try  and  think  out 
all  that  it  implies." 

Then  follows  a  brief  homily.  Jacksonknows 
it  by  heart,  for  it  never  varies,  and  he  has  heard 
it  quoted  frequently,  usually  for  purposes  of 
derision. 

"The  prefect  in  a  public  school  occupies  the 
same  position  as  the  non-commissioned  officer 
in  the  Army.  He  is  promoted  from  the  ranks; 
he  enjoys  privileges  not  available  to  his  former 
associates;  and  he  is  made  responsible  to  those 
above  him  not  merely  for  his  own  good  be- 
93 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

haviour  but  for  that  of  others.  Just  as  it  would 
be  impossible  to  run  an  army  withoutnon-com- 
missioned  officers,  so  it  would  be  impossible, 
under  modern  conditions,  to  run  a  public  school 
without  prefects." 

Jackson  shifts  his  feet  uneasily,  after  the  im- 
memorial fashion  of  schoolboys  undergoing  a 
"jaw. 

"But  I  want  to  warn  you  of  one  or  two 
things,"  continues  the  wise  old  Housemaster. 

Jackson  looks  up  quickly.  This  part  of  the 
exhortation  is  new.  At  least,  he  has  never  heard 
it  quoted. 

"You  will  have  certain  privileges:  don't  abuse 
them.  You  will  have  certain  responsibilities: 
don't  shirk  them.  And  above  all, don't  endeav- 
our to  run  with  the  hare  and  hunt  with  the 
hounds.  You  will  be  strongly  tempted  to  do  so. 
Your  old  associates  will  regard  you  with  sus- 
picion— even  distrust;  and  that  will  sting.  In 
your  anxiety  to  show  to  them  that  your  promo- 
tion has  not  impaired  your  capacity  for  friend- 
ship, you  may  be  inclined  to  stretch  the  Law  in 
their  favour  from  time  to  time,  or  even  ignore  it 
altogether.  On  the  other  hand,  you  must  beware 
of  over-officiousness  towards  those  whoarenot 
your  friends.  A  little  authority  is  a  dangerous 

94 


BOYS 

thing^.  So  walk  warily  at  first.  That's  all.  Good 
night,  old  man." 

•  •  •  •  •  • 

They  shook  hands  again,  and  Jackson  re- 
turned soberly  to  his  study,  which  he  shared 
with  his  friend  Blake.  The  two  had  entered 
the  School  the  same  day:  they  had  fought  their 
way  up  side  by  side  from  its  lowest  walks  to  a 
position  of  comparative  eminence;  and  their 
friendship,  though  it  contained  no  David  and 
Jonathan  elements — veryfewschoolboy  friend- 
ships do — had  survived  the  severe  test  of  two 
years  of  study-companionship.  Jackson  was 
the  better  scholar,  Blake  the  better  athlete  of 
the  two.  Now,  one  was  taken  and  the  other  left. 

Blake,  cramming  miscellaneous  possessions 
into  his  grub- box  in  view  of  the  early  departure 
on  the  morrow,  looked  up. 

"Hallo!"  he  remarked.  "You've  been  a  long 
time  getting  your  journey-money.  Did  the  old 
Man  try  to  cut  you  down?" 

"No  .  .  .  He  says  I'm  to  be  a  prefect  next 
term." 

"Oh!  Congratters!"  said  Blake  awkwardly. 

"Thanks.  Has  he  madeyou  one  too?" asked 
Jackson. 

"No." 

95 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

"Oh.  What  rot!" 

Presently  Jackson's  oldest  friend,  after  an 
unhappy  silence,  rose  and  went  out.  He  had 
gone  to  join  the  proletariat  round  the  Hall  fire. 
The  worst  of  getting  up  in  the  world  is  thatyou 
have  to  leave  so  many  old  comrades  behind 
you.  And  worse  still,  the  comrades  frequently 
persist  in  believing  that  you  are  glad  to  do  so. 

Such  is  the  cloak  of  Authority,  as  it  feels  to 
a  thoughtful  and  sensitive  boy  who  assumes  it 
for  the  first  time. 

Of  course  there  are  others.  Hulkins,  for  in- 
stance. In  his  eyes  the  prefectorial  system  was 
created  for  his  express  convenience  and  glori- 
fication. He  opens  his  study  door  and  bawls: 

"Fa-a-a-ag!" 

A  dozen  come  running.  The  last  to  arrive 
is  bidden  to  remove  Hulkins'  boots  from  his 
feet  and  bring  slippers.  The  residue  have  bare- 
ly returned  to  their  noisy  fireside  when  Hulk- 
ins' voice  is  uplifted  again.  This  time  he  re- 
quires blotting-paper,  and  thelast  comer  in  the 
panting  crowd  is  sent  into  the  next  study  to 
purloin  some.  The  rest  have  hardly  regained 
their  fastness  when  there  is  a  third  disturbance, 
and  there  is  Hulkins  howling  like  a  lost  soulfor 

96 


BOYS 

matches.  And  so,  with  infinite  uproar  and  waste 
of  labour,  the  great  man's  wants  are  supplied. 
It  does  the  fags  no  harm,  but  it  is  very,  very  bad 
for  Hulkins. 

Frisby  is  another  type.  He  is  not  afraid  of 
assuming  responsibility.  He  is  a  typical  new 
broom.  He  dots  the  i's  and  crosses  the  t's  of 
all  the  tiresome  little  regulations  in  the  House. 
He  sets  impositions  to  small  boys  with  great 
profusion,  and  sees  to  it  that  they  are  shown 
up  punctually.  If  it  is  his  turn  to  take  roll-call, 
he  descends  to  the  unsportsmanlike  device  of 
waiting  upon  the  very  threshold  of  the  Hall 
until  the  clock  strikes,  and  then  coming  in  and 
shutting  the  door  with  a  triumphant  bang  in 
the  faces  of  those  who  had  reckoned  on  the 
usual  thirty  seconds'  grace.  He  ferrets  out  the 
misdemeanours  of  criminals  of  fourteen,  and 
gibbets  them.  He  is  terribly  efficient — but  his 
vigilance  and  zeal  stop  suddenly  short  at  the 
prospect  of  a  collision  with  any  malefactor 
more  than  five  feet  high. 

Then  there  is  Meakin.  He  receives  his  pre- 
fectship  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  For  four  years  he 
has  led  a  hunted  and  precarious  existence  in 
the  lower  walks  of  the  House.  His  high-spirit- 
ed playmates  have  made  him  a  target  for  miss- 
97  G 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

iles,  derided  his  style  of  running,  broken  his 
spectacles,  raided  his  study,  wrecked  his  collec- 
tion of  beetles,  and  derived  unfailing  joy  from 
his  fluent  but  impotent  imprecations.  Now,  at 
last,  he  sees  peace  ahead.  He  will  be  left  to  him- 
self, at  any  rate.  They  will  not  dare  to  rag  a  pre- 
fect unless  the  prefect  endeavours  to  exert  his 
authority  unduly,  and  Meakin  has  no  intention 
whatever  of  doing  that.  To  Frisby,  Office  is  a 
sharp  two-edged  sword;  to  Meakin,  it  ismerely 
a  shield  and  buckler. 

Then  there  is  Flabb.  He  finds  a  prefect's  lot 
a  very  tolerable  one.  He  fully  appreciates  the 
fleshpots  in  the  prefect's  room;and  hefeels  that 
it  is  pleasant  to  have  fags  to  whiten  his  cricket- 
boots  and  make  toast  for  his  tea.  He  maintains 
friendly  relations  with  the  rest  of  the  House, 
and  treats  small  boys  kindly.  He  performs  his 
mechanical  duties — roll-call,  supervision  of 
Prep,  and  the  like — with  as  little  friction  as 
possible.  But  he  does  not  go  out  of  his  way  to 
quell  riots  or  put  down  bullying;  and  when  any 
unpleasantness  arises  between  the  Prefects  and 
the  H  ouse,  Flabb  effaces  himself  as  completely 
as  possible. 

Finally,  there  is  Manby,  the  head  of  the 
House.  He  is  high  up  in  the  Sixth,  and  a  good 

98 


BOYS 

all-round  athlete.  He  weighs  twelve  stone  ten, 
and  fears  nothing — except  a  slow  ball  which 
comes  with  the  bowler's  arm.  To  him  govern- 
ment comes  easily.  The  House  hangs  upon  his 
lightest  word,  and  hislieutenants  go  about  their 
business  with  assurance  and  despatch.  He  is  a 
born  organiser  and  a  natural  disciplinarian.  H  is 
prestige  overawes  the  unofficial  aristocracy  of 
the  House — always  the  most  difficult  section. 
And  he  stands  no  nonsense.  A  Manby  of  my  ac- 
quaintance once  came  upon  twenty-two  young 
gentlemen  in  a  corner  of  the  cricket-field,  who, 
having  privily  abandoned  the  orthodox  game 
arranged  for  their  benefit  that  afternoon,  were 
indulging  in  a  pleasant  but  demoralising  pas- 
time known  as  "tip-and-run."  Manby,  address- 
ing them  as  "slack  little  swine,  a  disgrace  to  the 
House,"  chastised  them  one  by  one,  and  next 
half-holiday  made  them  play  tip-and-run  under 
abroilingsunandhis  personal  supervisionfrom 
two  o'clock  till  six. 

A  House  with  a  Manby  at  the  head  of  it  is 
safe.  It  can  even  survive  a  weak  Housemaster. 
Greater  Britain  is  run  almost  entirely  by  Man- 
bys. 

Taking  it  all  round,  the  prefectorial  machine 
99 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

works  well.  It  is  by  no  means  perfect,  but  it  is 
infinitely  more  efficient  than  any  other  machine. 
The  chief  bar  to  its  smooth  running  is  the  in- 
herent loyalty  of  boys  to  one  another  and  their 
dislike  of  anything  which  savours  of  tale-bear- 
ing. Schoolboys  have  no  love  for  those  who  go 
out  of  their  way  to  support  the  arm  of  the  Law, 
and  a  prefect  naturally  shrinks  from  being 
branded  as  a  master's  jackal.  Hence,  that  ideal 
— a  perfect  understanding  between  a  House- 
master and  his  prefects — is  seldom  achieved. 
What  usuallyhappens  is  that  when  the  House- 
master is  autocratically  inclined  he  runs  the 
House  himself,  while  the  prefects  are  mere  lay 
ficTures;  and  when  the  Housemaster  is  weak  or 
indolent  theprefects  take  thelawinto  their  own 
hands  and  run  the  House,  often  extremely  effi- 
ciently, with  as  little  reference  to  their  titular 
head  as  possible.  He  is  a  great  Housemaster 
who  can  co-operate  closely  with  his  prefects 
without  causing  friction  between  the  prefects 
and  the  House,  or  the  prefects  and  himself. 

Butsometimes  anintolerable  strain  isthrown 
upon  the  machine — or  rather,  upon  the  most 
sensitive  portions  of  it. 

Look  at  this  boy,  standing  uneasily  at  the 

IQO 


BOYS 

door  of  his  study,  with  his  fingers  upon  the 
handle.  Outside,  in  the  passage,  a  riot  is  in  pro- 
gress. It  is  only  an  ordinary  exuberant  "rag": 
he  himself  has  participated  in  many  such.  But 
the  Law  enjoins  that  this  particular  passage 
shall  be  kept  perfectly  quiet  between  the  hours 
of  eight  and  nine  in  the  evening;  and  it  is  this 
boy's  particular  duty,  as  the  onlyprefect  resid- 
ent in  the  passage,  to  put  the  Law  into  effect. 
He  stands  in  the  darkness  of  his  study,  nerv- 
ing himself  The  crowd  outside  numbers  ten 
or  twelve;  but  he  is  not  in  the  least  afraid  of 
that.  This  enterprise  calls  for  a  different  kind 
of  courage,  and  a  good  deal  of  it.  Jackson  is  not 
a  particularly  prominent  member  of  the  House, 
except  by  reason  of  his  office:  others  far  more 
distinguished  than  himself  are  actually  partici- 
pating in  the  disturbance  outside.  It  will  be  of 
no  avail  to  emerge  wrathfully  and  say:  "Less 
row,  there!"  He  said  that  three  nights  ago. 
Two  nights  ago  he  said  it  again,  and  threaten- 
ed reprisals.  Last  night  he  named  various  of- 
fenders by  name,  and  stated  that  if  the  offence 
was  repeated  he  would  report  them  to  the 
Housemaster.  To-night  he  has  got  to  do  it. 
The  revellers  outside  know  this:  the  present 
turmoil  is  practically  a  challenge.  To  crown  all, 

lOI 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

he  can  hear,  above  the  din,  in  the  very  fore- 
front of  battle,  the  voice  of  Blake,  once  his  own 
familiar  friend. 

With  Blake  Jackson  had  reasoned  privily 
onlythatafternoon,warninghim  that  the  House 
would  go  to  pot  if  its  untitled  aristocracy  took 
to  inciting  others,  less  noble,  to  deeds  of  law- 
lessness. Blake  had  replied  by  recommending 
his  late  crony  to  return  to  his  study  and  boil  his 
head.  And  here  he  was,  leading  to-night's  riot. 

What  will  young  Jackson  do?  Watch  him 
well,  for  from  his  action  now  you  will  be  able  to 
forecast  the  whole  of  his  future  life. 

He  may  remain  mutely  in  his  study,  stop  his 
ears,  and  allow  the  storm  to  blow  itself  out.  He 
may  appear  before  theroysterers  and  utter  vain 
repetitions,  thereby  sal  vinghisconscience  with- 
out saving  his  face.  Or  he  may  go  out  like  a 
man  and  fulfil  his  promise  of  last  night.  It 
sounds  simple  enough  on  paper.  But  consider 
what  it  means  to  a  boy  of  seventeen,  possessing 
no  sense  of  perspective  to  tone  down  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  disaster  he  is  courting.  Jackson 
hesitates.   Then,  suddenly: 

"I'll  be  damned \{\  take  it  lying  down!"  he 
mutters. 

He  draws  a  deep  breath,  turns  the  handle, 

I02 


BOYS 

and  steps  out.  Next  moment  he  is  standing  in 
the  centre  of  a  silent  and  surly  ring,  jotting 
down  names. 

"You  five,"  he  announces  to  a  party  of  com- 
paratively youthful  offenders,  "can  come  to  the 
prefect's  room  after  prayers  and  be  tanned. 
You  three"  —  he  indicates  the  incredulous 
Blake  and  two  burly  satellites  —  "will  have  to 
be  reported.  I'm  sorry,  but  I  gave  you  fair 
warning  last  night." 

He  turns  on  his  heel  and  departs  in  good 
order  to  his  study,  branded — for  life,  he  feels 
convinced — as  an  officious  busybody,  a  pre- 
sumptuous upstart,  and  worst  of  all,  a  betrayer 
of  old  friends.  He  has  of  his  own  free  will  cast 
himself  into  the  nethermost  Hell  of  the  school- 
boy— unpopularity — all  to  keep  his  word. 

And  yet  for  acts  of  mere  physical  courage 
they  give  men  the  Victoria  Cross. 

NUMBER  n.  THE  OPPOSITION 

To  conduct  the  affairs  of  a  nation  requires 
both  a  Government  and  an  Opposition.  So  it 
is  with  school  politics.  The  only  difference  is 
that  the  scholastic  Opposition  is  much  franker 
about  its  true  aims. 
103 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

The  average  schoolboy,  contemplating  the 
elaborate  arrangements  made  by  those  in  auth- 
ority for  protecting  him  from  himself — rules, 
roll-calls,  bounds,  lock-ups,  magisterial  discip- 
line and  prefectorial  supervision — decides  that 
the  ordering  and  managementofthe  school  can 
be  maintained  without  any  active  assistance 
from  him;  and  he  plunges  joyously  into  Oppos- 
ition with  all  the  abandon  of  a  good  sportsman 
who  knows  that  the  odds  are  heavily  against 
him.  He  breaks  the  Law,  or  is  broken  by  the 
Law,  with  equal  cheerfulness. 

The  most  powerful  member  of  the  Oppos- 
ition is  the  big  boy  who  has  not  been  made  a 
prefect,  and  is  not  likely  to  be  made  a  prefect. 
He  enjoys  many  privileges — some  of  them 
quite  unauthorised — and  has  no  responsibilit- 
ies. He  is  one  of  the  happiest  people  in  the 
world.  He  has  reached  the  age  and  status  at 
which  corporal  punishment  is  supposed  to  be 
too  degrading  to  be  feasible:  this  immunity 
causes  him  to  realise  that  he  is  a  personage  of 
some  importance;  and  when  he  is  addressed 
rudely  by  junior  form-masters  he  frequently 
stands  upon  hisdignity  and  speaks  to  his  House- 
master about  it.  His  position  in  the  House 
depends  firstly  upon  his  athletic  ability,  and 

104 


e«i.S 


THE  INTELLECTUAL 


BOYS 

secondly  upon  the  calibre  of  the  prefects.  Given 
a  timid  set  of  prefects,  and  an  unquestioned 
reputation  in  the  football  world,  Master  Bull- 
ock has  an  extremely  pleasant  time  of  it.  He 
possesses  no  fags,  but  that  does  not  worry  him. 
I  once  knew  a  potentate  of  this  breed  who  im- 
provised a  small  gong  out  of  the  lidof  a  biscuit- 
tin,  which  he  hung  in  his  study.  When  he  beat 
upon  this  with  a  tea-spoon,  all  within  earshot 
were  expected  to  (and  did)  come  running  for 
orders.  Such  as  refrained  were  chastised  with 
a  toasting-fork. 

Then  comes  a  great  company  of  which  the 
House  recks  nothing,  and  of  whom  House  his- 
tory haslitde  to  tell — the  Cave-Dwellers,  the 
Swots, the  Smugs,  the  Saps.  These  keep  with- 
in theirownlurking-places,  sedulously  avoiding 
the  noisy  conclaveswhichcrowdsociablyround 
the  Hall  fire.  For  one  thing,  the  conversation 
there  bores  them  intensely,  and  foranotherthey 
would  seldom  be  permitted  to  join  in  it.  The 
role  of  Sir  Oracle  is  strictly  confined  to  the  ath- 
letes of  the  House,  though  the  Wag  and  the 
Oldest  Inhabitantare  usually  permitted  tooffer 
observations  or  swell  thechorus.  But  the  Cave- 
Dwellers,  never. 

The  curious  part  about  it  is  that  not  by  any 

105 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

means  all  the  Cave-Dwellers  are  "Swots."  It 
is  popularly  supposed  thatany  boy  whoexhibits 
a  preference  for  the  privacyof  his  study  devotes 
slavish  attention  therein  to  the  evening's  Prep, 
thus  stealing  a  march  upon  his  more  sociable 
and  less  self-centred  brethren.  But  this  is  far 
frombeingthe  case.  Many ofthe Cave-Dwellers 
dwell  in  caves  because  they  find  it  more  pleasant 
toread  novels,or  writeletters,ordevelopphoto- 
graphs,  or  even  do  nothing,  than  listen  to  stale 
House  gossip  or  indulge  in  everlasting  small 
cricket  in  a  corridor. 

They  are  oftenthesalt  ofthe  House,  butthey 
nave  no  conception  ofthe  fact.  They  entertain 
alow  opinion  of  themselves:  they  never  expect 
to  rise  to  anygreat  position  intheworld:  so  they 
philosophically  follow  their  own  bent,  and  leave 
the  gloryand  thepraise  to  the  athletesand their 
mnbrcB.  It  comes  as  quite  a  shock  to  many  of 
them,  when  they  leave  school  and  emerge  into 
a  larger  world,  to  find  themselves  not  only  liked 
but  looked  up  to;  while  the  heroes  of  their 
schooldays,  despite  their  hairy  arms  and  club 
ties,  are  now  dismissed  in  a  word  as  "hobblede- 
hoys." 

Then  comes  the  Super- Intellectual  —  the 
"Highbrow."  He  is  a  fishout  ofthe  water  with 

1 06 


BOYS 

aveneeance.buthedoesexist  at  school — some- 
how.  He  congregates  in  places  of  refuge  with 
others  of  the  faith;  and  they  discuss  the  English 
Revieiv,  and  mysterious  individuals  who  are 
onlyreferredtoby  theirinitials — as  G.  B.  S.and 
G.  K.  C.  Sometimes  he  initiates  these  discuss- 
ions because  they  really  interest  him,  but  more 
often,  it  is  to  be  feared,  because  they  make  him 
feel  superior  and  grown-up.  Somewhere  in  the 
school  grounds  certain  youthful  schoolmates  of 
his,  inspired  by  precisely  similar  motives  but 
with  different  methods  of  procedure,  are  sitting 
in  the  centre  of  a  rhododendron  bush  smoking 
cigarettes.  I  n  each  case  the  idea  is  the  same — 
namely,  a  hankering  after  meats  which  are  not 
for  babes.  But  the  smoker  puts  on  no  side  about 
his  achievements,  whereas  the  "highbrow" 
does.  He  loathes  the  vulgar  herd  and  holds  it 
aloof.  He  does  not  inform  the  vulgar  herd  of 
this  fact,  but  he  confides  it  to  the  other  high- 
brows, and  they  applaud  his  discrimination.  In- 
tellectual snobbery  is  a  rare  thing  among  boys, 
and  therefore  difficult  to  account  for.  Perhaps 
the  pose  is  a  form  of  reaction.  It  is  comforting, 
for  instance,  after  you  have  been  compelled  to 
dance  the  can-can  in  your  pyjamas  for  the  de- 
lectation of  the  Lower  Dormitory,  toforegather 
107 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

nextmorningwitha  fewkindred  spirits  and  dis- 
course pityingly  and  scathingly  upon  the  gross 
philistinism  of  the  lower  middle  classes. 

No,  the  lot  of  the  aesthete  at  school  is  not  al- 
together a  happy  one,  but  possibly  his  tribula- 
tions are  not  without  a  certain  beneficent  effect. 
When  he  goes  up  to  Oxford  or  Cambridge  he 
will  speedily  find  that  in  the  tolerant  atmos- 
phere of  those  intellectual  centres  the  prig  is 
not  merely  permitted  to  walk  the  earth  but  to 
flourish  like  the  green  bay-tree.  Under  the  in- 
toxicating effects  of  this  discovery  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  robust  and  primitive  traditions  of 
his  old  School — and  the  old  School's  method 
of  instilling  those  traditions — may  have  a  sob- 
ering and  steadying  effect  upon  him.  No  man 
ever  developed  his  mind  by  neglecting  his 
body,  and  if  the  memory  of  a  coarse  and  ruth- 
less school  tradition  can  persuade  the  Super- 
Intellectual  to  play  hockey  or  go  down  to  the 
river  after  lunch,  instead  of  sitting  indoors 
drinking  liqueurs  and  discussing  Maupassant 
with  a  coterie  of  the  elect,  then  the  can-can  in 
the  Lower  Dormitory  has  not  been  danced  al- 
together in  vain. 

Then  come  the  rank  and  file.  There  are  many 

io8 


BOYS 

types.  There  is  the  precocious  type,  marked 
out  for  favourable  notice  by  aptitude  at  games 
and  attractive  manners.  Such  an  one  stands  in 
danger  of  being  taken  up  by  older  boys  than 
himself;  which  means  that  he  will  suffer  the  fate 
of  all  those  who  stray  out  of  their  proper  station. 
At  first  he  will  be  an  object  of  envy  and  dislike; 
later,  when  his  patrons  have  passed  on  else- 
where, he  may  find  himself  friendless. 

At  the  opposite  end  of  the  scale  comes  the 
Butt.  His  life  is  a  hard  one,  but  not  without  its 
compensations;  for  although  he  is  the  target  of 
all  the  practical  humour  in  the  House,  his  post 
carries  with  it  a  certain  celebrity;  and  at  any 
rate  a  Butt  can  never  be  unpopular.  So  he  is 
safe  at  least  from  the  worst  disaster  that  can  be- 
fall a  schoolboy.  Besides,  you  require  a  good 
deal  of  character  to  be  a  Butt. 

And  there  is  the  Buffoon.  He  is  distinct  from 
the  Butt,  because  a  Butt  is  usually  a  Butt  mal- 
grS  lui,  owing  to  some  peculiarity  of  appear- 
ance or  temperament;  whereas  the  Buffoon  is 
one  of  those  people  who  yearn  for  notice  at  any 
price,  and  will  sell  their  souls  "to  make  fellows 
laugh."  You  may  behold  him,  the  centre  of  a 
grinning  group,  tormenting  some  shy  or  awk- 
ward boy — very  often  the  Butt  himself;  while 
109 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 
in  school  he  is  the  bugbear  of  weak  masters. 
The  laro-er  his  audience  the  more  exuberant 
he  becomes:  he  reaches  his  zenith  at  a  break- 
ing-up  supper  or  in  the  back  benches  on  Speech 
Day.  One  is  tempted  to  feel  that  when  reduced 
to  his  own  society  he  must  suffer  severely  from 
depression. 

Then  there  is  the  Man  of  the  World.  He  is 
a  recognised  authority  on  fast  life  in  London 
and  Bohemian  revels  in  Paris.  He  is  a  patron 
of  the  drama,  and  a  perfect  mine  of  unreliable 
information  as  to  the  private  life  of  the  originals 
of  the  dazzling  portraits  which  line  his  study — 
and  indeed  half  the  studies  in  the  House.  The 
picture-postcard,  as  an  educative  and  refining 
influence,  has  left  an  abiding  mark  upon  the 
youth  of  the  present  day.  We  of  an  older  and 
more  rugged  civilisation,  who  were  young  at  a 
period  when  actresses'  photographs  cost  two 
shillings  each,  were  compelled  in  those  days  to 
restrict  our  gallery  of  divinities  to  one  or  two 
at  the  most.  (Too  often  our  collection  was  sec- 
ond-hand, knocked  down  for  sixpence  at  some 
end-of-term  auction,  or  reluctantly  yielded  in 
composition  for  a  long-outstanding  debt  by  a 
friend  in  the  throes  of  a  financial  crisis.)  But 
nowadays,  with  the  entire  Gaiety  chorus  at  a 

no 


BOYS 

penny  apiece,  the  youthful  connoisseur  of  female 
beauty  has  emancipated  himself  from  the  pic- 
torial monoo^amy  (or  at  the  most,  bigamy)  of  an 
earlier  generation.  He  is  a  polygamist,  a  pan- 
theist. He  can  erect  an  entire  feminine  Olymp- 
us upon  his  mantelpiece  for  the  sum  of  half- 
a-crown.  And  yet,  bless  him,  he  is  just  as  unso- 
phisticated as  we  used  to  be — no  more  and  no 
less.  The  type  does  not  change. 

Lastly,  comes  the  little  boy — the  Squeaker, 
the  Tadpole,  the  Nipper,  what  you  will.  His 
chief  characteristic  is  terrific  but  short-lived 
enthusiasm  for  everything  he  undertakes,  be 
it  work,  play,  a  friendship,  or  a  private  ven- 
detta. 

He  bef;ins  by  taking  education  very  serious- 
ly. He  is  immensely  proud  of  his  first  set  of 
books,  and  writes  his  name  on  nearly  every 
page,  accompanied  by  metrical  warnings  to  in- 
tending purlolners.  He  equips  himself  with  a 
perfect  arsenal  of  fountain-pens, rubberstamps, 
blue  pencils,  and  ink-erasers.  He  starts  a  priv- 
ate mark-book  of  his  own,  to  check  possible 
carelessness  or  dishonesty  on  the  part  of  his 
form-master.  Then  he  gets  to  work,  with  his 
books  disposed  around  him  and  his  fountain- 
pen  playing  all  over  his  manuscript.  By  the 
III 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

end  of  a  fortnight  he  has  lost  all  his  books,  and 
having  broken  his  fountain-pen,  is  detected  in 
a  pathetic  attempt  to  write  his  exercise  upon  a 
sheet  of  borrowed  paper  with  a  rusty  nib  held 
in  his  fingers  or  stuck  into  a  splinter  from  off 
the  floor. 

It  is  the  same  with  games.  Set  a  company 
of  small  boys  to  play  cricket,  and  their  solem- 
nity at  the  start  is  almost  painful.  Return  in  half 
an  hour,  and  you  will  find  that  the  stately  con- 
test has  resolved  itself  into  a  reproduction  of 
the  parrot-house  at  the  Zoo,  the  point  at  issue 
being  a  doubtful  decision  of  the  umpire's. 
Under  the  somewhat  confiding  arrangement 
which  obtains  in  Lower  School  cricket,  the  um- 
pire for  the  moment  is  the  gentleman  whose 
turn  it  is  to  bat  next;  so  litigation  is  frequent. 
Screams  of  "  Get  out !  "  "Stay  in  !  "  "Cads  !  " 
"Liars!"  rend  the  air,  until  a  big  boy  ora master 
strolls  over  and  quells  the  riot. 

The  small  boy's  friendships,  too,  are  of  a 
violent  but  ephemeral  nature.  But  his  out- 
standing characteristic  is  a  passion  for  organis- 
ing secret  societies  of  the  most  desperate  and 
mysterious  character,  all  of  which  come  speed- 
ily to  a  violent  or  humiliating  dissolution. 

I  was  once  privileged  to  be  introduced  into 

112 


BOYS 

the  inner  workings  of  a  society  called  "  The 
Anarchists."  It  was  not  a  very  original  title, 
but  it  served  its  time, for  thedays  of  theSociety 
were  few  and  evil.  Its  aims  were  sanguinary 
and  nebulous;  the  Rules  consisted  almost  en- 
tirely of  a  list  of  the  penalties  to  be  inflicted 
upon  those  who  transgressed  them.  For  in- 
stance, under  Rule  XXIV  any  one  who  broke 
Rule  XVII  was  compelled  to  sit  down  for  five 
minutes  upon  a  chair  into  the  seat  of  which  a 
pot  of  jam  had  been  emptied.  (Economists  will 
be  relieved  to  hear  that  the  jam  was  afterwards 
eaten  by  the  executioners,  the  criminal  being 
very  properly  barred  from  participating.) 

The  Anarchists  had  a  private  code  of  signals 
with  which  to  communicate  with  one  anoth- 
er in  the  presence  of  outsiders — in  Prep,  for 
instance.  The  code  was  simplicity  itself.  A 
single  tapwith  a  pencil  upon  the  table  denoted 
the  letter  A;  two  taps,  B;  and  so  on.  As  may 
be  imagined,  Y  and  Z  involved  much  mental 
strain;  and  as  the  transmitter  of  the  message 
invariably  lost  count  after  fourteen  or  fifteen 
taps,  and  began  all  over  again  without  any 
attempt  either  at  explanation  or  apology,  the 
gentleman  who  was  acting  as  receiver  usually 
found  the  task  of  decoding  his  signals  a  matter 

113  H 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

of  extreme  difficulty  and  some  exasperation. 
Before  the  tangle  could  be  straigrhtened  out  a 
prefect  inevitably  swooped  down  and  awarded 
both  signallersfifty lines  for  creating  a  disturb- 
ance in  Preparation. 

However,  the  Anarchists,  though  they  fin- 
ished after  the  manner  of  their  kind,  did  not 
slip  into  oblivion  so  noiselessly  as  some  of  their 
predecessors.  In  fact,  nothing  in  their  inky 
and  jabbering  life  became  them  like  their  leav- 
ing of  it. 

One  evening  the  entire  brotherhood — there 
were  about  seven  of  them — were  assembled  in 
a  study  which  would  have  held  four  comfort- 
ably, engaged  in  passing  a  vote  of  censure  up- 
on one  Horace  Bull,  B.A.,  their  form-master. 
Little  though  he  knew  it,  Bull  had  been  a 
marked  man  for  some  weeks.  The  Czar  of  all 
theRussias  himself  could  hardly  have  occupied 
a  more  prominent  position  in  the  black  books 
of  Anarchy  in  general.  To-day  he  had  taken  a 
step  nearer  his  doom  by  clouting  one  Nixon 
minor,  Vice-President  of  the  Anarchists,  on  the 
side  of  the  head. 

It  was  during  the  geography  hour.  Mr.  Bull 
had  asked  Nixon  to  define  awatershed.  Nixon, 
who  upon  the  previous  evening  had  been  too 

114 


BOYS 

much  occupied  with  his  duties  as  Vice-Presid- 
ent of  the  Anarchists  to  do  much  Prep,  had 
replied  with  a  seraphic  smile  that  a  watershed 
was  "a  place  to  shelter  from  the  rain."  As  an 
improvised  effort  the  answer  seemed  to  him  an 
extremely  good  one;  but  Mr.  Bull  had  prompt- 
ly left  his  seat,  addressed  Nixon  as  a  "cheeky 
little  hound,"  and  committed  the  assault  com- 
plained of. 

"  This  sort  of  thing,"  observed  Rumford 
tertius,  the  President,  "can't  go  on.  What  shall 
we  do?" 

"We  might  saw  one  of  the  legs  of  his  chair 
through,"  suggested  one  of  the  members. 

"Who's  goingto  do  it?"  inquired  the  Presid- 
ent.  "We'll  only  get  slain." 

Silence  fell,  as  it  usually  does  when  theques- 
tion  of  belling  the  cat  arrives  at  the  practical 


stage. 


"We  could  report  him  to  the  Head,"  said 
another  voice.  "We  mis^ht  oret  him  the  sack  for 
assault — even  quod!  We  could  show  Nixon's 
head  to  him.  It  would  be  a  sound  scheme  to 
make  it  bleed  a  bit  before  we  took  him  up." 

The  speaker  fingered  a  heavy  ruler  lovingly, 
but  Mr.  Nixon  edged  coldly  out  of  reach. 

"Certainly,"  agreed  the  President,  "Bashan 

115 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

ought  to  be  stopped  knocking  us  about  in 
form." 

"I'd  rather  have  one  clout  over  the  earhole," 
observed  an  Anarchist  who  so  far  had  not 
spoken, "than  be  taken  alongtoBashan's  study 
and  given  six  of  the  best.  That  is  what  the  re- 
sult would  be.     Hallo,  Stinker,  what's  that?" 

The  gentleman  addressed — a  morose,  un- 
clean, and  spectacled  youth  of  scientific  procliv- 
ities— was  the  latest  recruit  to  the  gang.  He 
had  been  admitted  at  the  instance  of  Master 
Nixon,  who  had  pointed  out  that  it  would  be  a 
good  thing  to  enrol  as  amember  some  one  who 
understood  "Chemistry  and  Stinks  generally." 
He  couldbeused  for  the  manufacture  of  bombs, 
and  so  on. 

Stinker  had  produced  from  his  pocket  a 
corked  test-tube,  tightlypackedwithsome  dark 
substance. 

"What's  that?"  inquired  the  Anarchists  in 
chorus.  (They  nearly  always  talked  in  chorus.) 

"It's  anewkind  of  explosive, "replied  the  in- 
ventor with  great  pride. 

"I  hope  it's  better  than  that  new  kind  of 
stinkpot  you  invented  for  choir-practice,"  re- 
marked a  cynic  from  the  corner  of  the  study. 
"That  was  a  rotten  fraud,  if  you  like!  It  smelt 

ii6 


BOYS 

more  like  Hly-of-the-valley  than  any  decent 
stink." 

"Dry  up,  Ashley  minor!"  rejoined  the  in- 
ventor indignantly.  "Thisis  a  jolly  good  bomb. 
I  made  it  to-day  in  the  Lab,  while  The  Badger 
was  trying  to  put  out  a  bonfire  at  the  other 
end." 

"Where  does  the  patent  come  in?"  inquired 
the  President  judicially. 

"The  patent  is  that  it  doesn't  go  off  all  at 
once." 

"We  know  that!"  observed  the  unbelieving 
Ashley. 

"Do  you  chuck  it  or  light  it?"  asked  Nixon. 

"You  light  it.  At  least,  you  shove  it  into  the 
fire,  and  it  goes  off  in  about  ten  minutes.  You 
see  the  idea?  If  Bashan  doesn't  see  us  put  any- 
thing into  the  form-room  fire,  he  will  think  it 
was  something  wrong  with  the  coal." 

The  Anarchists,  much  interested,  murmured 
approval. 

"Good  ^g^y  observed  the  President.  "We'll 
put  it  into  the  fireto-morrowmorningbefore  he 
comes  in,  and  after  we  have  been  at  work  ten 
minutes  or  so  the  thing  will  go  off  and  blow  the 
whole  place  to  smithereens." 

"Golly!"  gobbled  the  Anarchists. 

117 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

"What  about  us,  Stinker?"  inquired  a  cau- 
tious conspirator.  "Shan't  we  get  damaged?" 

Stinker  waved  away  the  objection. 

"We  shall  know  it's  coming,"  he  said;  "so 
we  shall  be  able  to  dodge.  But  it  will  be  a  nasty 
jar  for  Bashan." 

There  was  a  silence,  full  of  rapt  contempla- 
tion of  to-morrow  morning.  Then  the  discord- 
ant voice  of  Ashley  minor  broke  in. 

"I  don't  believe  it  will  work.  All  your  inven- 
tions are  putrid.  Stinker." 

"I'll  fight  you!"  squealed  the  outraged  sci- 
entist, bounding  to  his  feet. 

"I  expect  it'll  turn  out  to  be  a  fire-exting- 
uisher, or  something  like  that,"  pursued  the 
truculent  Ashley. 

"Hold  the  bomb,"  said  Stinkerto  thePresid- 

ent,  "while  I " 

"Sit  down,"  urged  the  other  Anarchists, 
drawing  in  their  toes.  "There's  no  room  here. 
Ashley  minor,  chuck  it!" 

"It  won't  work,"  muttered  Ashley  doggedly. 

Suddenlya  brilliant  idea  came  upon  Stinker. 

"Won't  work,  won't  it?"  he  screamed.  "All 
right,then!  We'll  shove  it  into  thisfire  now, and 
you  see  if  it  doesn't  work!" 

Among   properly    constituted    Anarchistic 

ii8 


BOYS 

Societies  it  is  not  customary,  when  the  efficacy 
of  a  bomb  is  in  dispute,  to  employ  the  members 
as  a  corpus  vile.  But  the  young  do  not  fetter 
themselves  with  red-tape  of  this  kind.  With  one 
accord  Stinker's  suggestion  was  acclaimed,  and 
the  bomb  was  thrust  into  the  glowing  coals  of 
Rumford's  study  fire.  The  brotherhood,  herded 
together  within  a  few  feet  of  the  grate — the  a- 
partment  measured  seven  feet  by  six — breath- 
ed hard  and  waited  expectantly. 

Five  minutes  passed — then  ten. 

"It  ought  to  be  pretty  ripe  now,"  said  the  in- 
ventor anxiously. 

The  President,  who  was  sitting  next  the  win- 
dow, prudently  muffled  his  features  in  the  cur- 
tain. The  others  drew  back  as  far  as  they  could 
— about  six  inches — and  waited. 

Nothing  happened. 

"I  am  sure  it  will  work  all  right,"  declared 
the  inventor  desperately.  "Perhaps  the  temp- 
erature of  this  fire " 

He  knelt  down,  and  began  to  blow  upon  the 
flickering  coals.  There  was  a  long  and  triumph- 
ant sniff  from  Master  Ashley. 

"I  said  it  was  only  a  rotten  stinkp — "  he  be- 
gan. 

BANG! 
119 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

There  is  a  special  department  of  Providence 
which  watches  over  the  youthful  chemist.  The 
explosion  killed  no  one,  though  it  blew  the 
coals  out  of  the  grate  and  the  pictures  off  the 
walls. 

The  person  who  suffered  most  was  the  in- 
ventor. He  was  led,  howling  but  triumphant, 
to  the  Sanatorium. 

"Luckily,  sir,"  explained  Rumford  to  Mr. 
Bull  a  few  days  later,  in  answer  to  a  kindly 
inquiry  as  to  the  extent  of  the  patient's  injur- 
ies, "it  was  only  his  face." 


■i-t-v^l'-) 


^Av.^epw 


THE  NIPPER 


CHAPTER  FIVE  THE 

PURSUIT  OF  KNOWLEDGE 


CHAPTER  FIVE  THE 

PURSUIT  OF  KNOWLEDGE    I 

ONE  OF  THE  MOST  PATHETIC 
spectacles  in  the  world  is  that  of  grown-up  per- 
sons legislating  for  the  young.  Listening  to 
these,  we  are  led  to  suspect  that  a  certain  sec- 
tion of  the  human  race — the  legislative  section 
— must  have  been  born  into  the  world  aged 
about  forty,  sublimely  ignorant  of  the  require- 
ments, limitations,  and  point  of  view  of  infancy 
and  adolescence. 

In  what  attitude  does  the  ordinary  educa- 
tional expert  approach  educational  problems? 
This  question  induces  another.  What  is  an  ed- 
ucational expert? 

The  answer  is  simple.  Practically  every- 
body. 

All  parents  are  educational  experts:  we  have 
only  to  listen  to  a  new  boy's  mother  laying 
down  to  a  Headmaster  the  lines  upon  which 
his  school  should  be  conducted  to  realise  that. 
So  are  all  politicians:  we  discover  this  fact  by 
following  the  debates  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. So  are  the  clergy;  for  they  themselves 
have  told  us  so.  So,  presumably,  are  the  writers 
of  manuals  and  text-books.  So  are  the  dear  old 
gentlemen  who  come  down  to  present  prizes 
123 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 
upon  Speech  Day.  Practically  the  only  section 
of  humanity  to  whom  the  title  is  denied  are  the 
people  who  have  to  teach.  It  is  universally  ad- 
mitted by  the  experts — it  is  their  sole  point  of 
agreement — that  no  schoolmaster  is  capable  of 
forming  a  correct  judgment  of  the  education- 
al needs  of  his  charges.  He  is  hidebound, 
"groovy";he  cannot  break  away  from  tradition. 

"What  can  you  expect  from  a  tripe-dresser," 
inquire  the  experts  in  chorus,  "but  a  eulogy  of 
the  stereotyped  method  of  dressing  tripe?" 

So,  ignoring  the  teacher,  the  experts  lay  their 
heads — one  had  almost  said  their  loggerheads 
— together,  and  evolve  terrific  schemes  of  educ- 
ation. Each  section  sets  about  its  task  in  char- 
acteristic fashion.  The  politician,  with  his  nat- 
ural acumen,  gets  down  to  essentials  at  once. 

"The  electorate  of  this  country,"  he  says  to 
himself,  "do  not  care  one  farthing  dip  about 
Education  as  such.  Now,  howcan  we  galvanise 
Education  into  a  vote-catching  machine.'*" 

He  reflects. 

"Ah!  I  have  it!"  he  cries  presently.  ''Relig- 
ion! That'll  ginger  them  up!" 

So  presently  an  Education  Bill  is  introduced 
into  the  House  of  Commons.  Nine  out  of  its 
ten  clausesdealpurely  with  educational  matters 

124 


THE   PURSUIT   OF   KNOWLEDGE 

and  are  passed  without  a  division;  and  the  intel- 
lectual teeth  of  the  House  fasten  greedily  upon 
Clause  Number  Ten,  which  deals  with  the  half- 
hour  per  day  which  is  to  be  set  aside  for  relig- 
ious instruction.  The  question  arises:  What  at- 
titude are  the  youth  of  the  country  to  be  taught 
to  adopt  towards  their  Maker?  Are  they  to 
praise  H  im  from  a  printed  page,  ormerely  listen 
to  their  teacher  doing  so  out  of  his  own  head? 
Are  they  to  learn  the  Catechism?  Is  the  Lord's 
Prayer  to  be  regarded  as  an  Anglican  or  Non- 
conformist orison? 

Everybody  is  most  conciliatory  at  first. 

"A  short  passage  of  Scripture,"  suggest  the 
Anglicans;  "aCollect,  mayhap;  and  afew  words 
of  helpful  instruction — eh?  Something  quite 
simple  and  non-contentious,  like  that?" 

"Weareafraidthatthatissectarian  religion," 
object  the  Nonconformists.  "A  simple  chapter 
from  the  Bible, certainly — maybe  a  hymn.  But 
no  dogmatic  teaching,  if  you  please!" 

"But  that  is  no  religion  at  all!"  explain  the 
Anglicans,  with  that  quickness  to  appreciate 
another's  point  of  view  which  has  always  dis- 
tinguished the  Church  of  England. 

After  a  littlefurther  unpleasantness  all  round, 
a  deadlock  is  reached.  Then,withthat  magnifi- 

125 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

cent  instinct  for  compromise  which  character- 
ises British  statesmanship,  another  suggestion 
is  put  forward.  Why  not  permit  all  the  clergy  of 
the  various  denominations  to  enter  the  School 
and  minister  to  the  requirements  of  their  vari- 
ous young  disciples?  "An  admirable  notion," 
says  everybody.  But  difficulties  arise.  Are  this 
heavenly  host  to  be  admitted  one  by  one,  or  in 
a  body?  If  the  former,  how  long  will  it  take  to 
work  through  the  entire  rota,  and  when  will  the 
ordinary  work  of  the  day  be  expected  to  begin? 
If  the  latter,  is  the  School  to  be  divided,  for 
devotional  purposes,  into  spiritual  water-tight 
compartments  by  an  arrangement  of  movable 
screens,  or  what?  So  the  battle  goes  on.  By  this 
time,  as  the  astute  politician  has  foreseen,  every 
one  has  forgotten  that  this  is  an  Education  Bill, 
and  both  sides  are  hard  at  work  manufacturing 
party  capital  out  of  John  Bull's  religious  sus- 
ceptibilities. Presently  the  venue  is  shifted  to 
the  country,  where  the  electorate  are  asked  up- 
on a  thousand  platforms  if  the  Church  which  in- 
augurated Education  in  our  land,  andbuiltmost 
of  the  schools,  is  to  be  ousted  from  her  ancient 
sphere  of  beneficentactivity;  and  upon  a  thous- 
and more,  whether  the  will  of  the  People  or  the 
Peers  is  to  prevail.  (It  simplifies  politics  very 

126 


THE   PURSUIT   OF   KNOWLEDGE 

greatly  to  select  a  good  reliable  shibboleth  and 
employ  it  on  «// occasions.)  Finally  the  Bill  is 
thrown  out  or  talked  out,  and  the  first  nine 
clauses  perish  with  it. 

That  is  the  political  and  clerical  way  of  deal- 
ing with  Education.  The  parent's  way  we  will 
set  forth  in  another  place. 

The  writer  of  manuals  and  text-books  con- 
cerns himself  chiefiy  with  the  right  method  of 
unfolding  his  subject  to  the  eager  eyes  of  the 
expectant  pupil.  "There  is  a  right  way  and  a 
wrong  way,"  he  is  careful  to  explain;  "and  if 
you  present  your  subject  in  the  wrong  way  the 
pupil  will  derive  no  educational  htn&'CW.  from  it 
whatever."  At  present  there  is  a  great  craze 
for  what  is  known  as  "practical"  teaching.  For 
instance,  in  our  youth  we  were  informed,  ad 
nauseaiUy  that  there  is  a  certain  fixed  relation 
between  the  circumference  of  a  circle  and  its 
diameter,  the  relation  being  expressed  by  a 
mysterious  Greek  symbol  pronounced  "pie." 
The  modern  expert  scouts  this  system  alto- 
gether. No  imaginary  pieforhim!  He  is  a  pract- 
ical man. 

Take  several ordinaiy  tin  canisiei's,  he  com- 
mands, apiece  ofstiHng,  and  a  ruler;  and  with- 
out any  other  aids  ascertain  the  circumference 
127 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

a7id  diameter  of  these  cmiisters.  Work  out  in 
each  case  the  numericalrelation  betiveen  the  cir- 
cu7nference  and  diameter.  What  conclusion  do 
you  draw  from  the  result? 

We  can  only  draw  one,  and  that  is  that  no 
man  who  has  never  been  a  boy  should  be  per- 
mitted to  write  books  of  instruction  for  the 
young.  For  what  would  the  "result"  be?  Imag- 
ine a  company  of  some  thirty  or  forty  healthy 
happy  boys,  each  supplied  gratuitously  with 
several  tin  canisters  and  a  ruler,  set  down  for 
the  space  of  an  hour  and  practically  challenged 
to  create  a  riot.  Alexander's  Rag-Time  Band 
would  be  simply  nowhere! 

As  for  the  last  gang  of  experts — the  dear  old 
gentlemen  who  come  down  to  give  away  prizes 
on  Speech  Day — they  do  not  differ  much  as  a 
class.  They  invariably  begin  by  expressing  a 
wish  that  they  had  enjoyed  such  educational 
facilities  as  these  in  their  young  days. 

"You  live  in  a  palace,  boys!"  announces  the 
old  gentleman.  "I  envy  you."  (Murmurs  of 
"Liar!"  from  the  very  back  row.) 

After  that  the  speaker  communicates  to  his 
audience  a  discovery  which  has  been  commun- 
icated to  the  same  audience  by  different  speak- 
ers since  the  foundation  of  the  School — to  this 

128 


THE   PURSUIT  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

effect,  that  Education  (derivation  given  here, 
with  a  false  quantity  thrown  in)  is  a  "draw- 
ing out"  and  not  a  "putting-in."  Why  this  fact 
should  so  greatly  excite  Speech  Day  orators  is 
not  known,  but  they  seldom  fail  to  proclaim  it 
with  intense  and  parental  enthusiasm.  Then, 
after  a  few  apposite  remarks  upon  the  subject 
oimens  sana  ijt  corpore  sano — a  flight  of  orig- 
inality received  with  murmurs  of  anguish  by 
hisexperiencedyounghearers — the  old  gentle- 
man concludes  with  a  word  of  comfort  to  "the 
less  successful  scholars."  It  is  a  physical  im- 
possibility, he  points  out,  when  there  is  only 
one  prize,  for  all  the  boys  in  the  class  to  win  it; 
and  adds  that  his  experience  of  life  has  been 
that  not  every  boy  who  wins  prizes  at  school 
becomes  Prime  Minister  in  after  years.  All  of 
which  is  very  helpful  and  illuminating,  but  does 
not  solve  the  problem  of  Education  to  anygreat 

extent. 

So  much  for  the  experts.  Their  name  is  Le- 
gion, for  they  are  many,  and  they  speak  with 
various  and  dissonant  voices.  But  they  have 
one  thing  in  common.  All  their  schemes  of  ed- 
ucation are  founded  upon  the  same  amazing 
fallacy — namely,  that  a  British  schoolboy  is  a 
person  who  desires  to  be  instructed.  That  is 
129  I 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

the  rock  upon  which  they  all  split.  That  is  why- 
it  was  suggested  earlier  in  these  pages  that  ed- 
ucational experts  are  all  born  grown-up. 

Let  us  clear  our  minds  upon  this  point  once 
and  for  all.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  a  school- 
master's task  is  not  to  bring  light  to  the  path  of 
an  eager,  groping  disciple,  but  to  drag  a  reluct- 
ant and  refractory  young  animal  up  the  slopes 
of  Parnassus  by  the  scruff  of  his  neck.  The 
schoolboy's  point  of  view  is  perfecdy  reason- 
able and  intelligible.  "I  am  lazy  and  scatter- 
brained," he  says  in  effect.  "I  have  not  as  yet 
developed  the  power  of  concentration,  and  I 
have  no  love  of  knowledcre  for  its  own  sake. 
Still,  I  have  no  rooted  objection  to  education, 
as  such,  and  I  suppose  I  must  learn  something 
in  order  to  earn  a  living.  But  I  am  much  too 
busy,  as  a  growing  animal,  to  have  any  energy 
left  for  intellectual  enterprise.  It  is  the  business 
of  my  teacher  to  teach  me.  To  put  the  matter 
coarsely,  he  is  paid  for  it.  I  shall  not  offer  him 
effusive  assistance  in  his  labours,  but  if  he  suc- 
ceeds in  keeping  me  up  to  the  collar  against  my 
will,  I  shall  respect  him  for  it.  If  he  does  not,  I 
shall  take  full  advantaore  of  the  circumstance." 

That  is  the  immemorial  attitude  of  the  grow- 
ing boy.  When  he  stops  growing,  conscience 

130 


THE   PURSUIT  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

and  character  begin  to  develop,  and  he  works 
because  he  feels  he  ought  to  or  because  he  has 
got  into  the  habit  of  doing  so,  and  not  merely 
because  he  must.  But  until  he  reaches  that  age 
it  is  foolish  to  frame  theories  of  education  based 
upon  the  idea  that  a  boy  is  a  person  anxious  to 
be  educated. 

Let  us  see  how  such  a  theory  works,  say,  in 
the  School  laboratory.  A  system  which  will  ex- 
tract successful  results  from  a  class  of  boys  en- 
gaged in  practical  chemistry  will  stand  any  test 
we  care  to  apply  to  it.  Successful  supervision 
of  School  science  is  the  most  ticklish  business 
that  a  master  can  be  called  upon  to  undertake. 
We  will  follow  our  friend  Brown  minor  to  the 
laboratory,  and  witness  him  at  his  labours. 

He  takes  his  place  at  the  working  bench,  and 
sets  out  his  apparatus — test-tubes, beakers, and 
crucibles.  He  lights  all  the  bunsen  burners 
within  reach.  Presently  he  is  provided  with  a 
sample  of  some  crystalline  substance  and  bid- 
den to  ascertain  its  chemical  composition. 

"How  shall  I  begin,  sir?"  he  asks  respect- 
fully. 

"Apply  the  usual  tests:  I  told  you  about  them 
yesterday  in  the  lecture-room.  Take  small  por- 
tions of  the  substance:  ascertain  if  they  are  sol- 

131 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

uble.  Observe  their  effect  on  litmus.  Test  them 
with  acid,  and  note  whether  a  gas  is  evolved. 
And  so  on.  That  will  keep  you  going  for  the 
present.  I'll  come  round  to  you  againpresently." 

And  off  goes  the  busymaster  to  help  another 
young  scientist  in  distress. 

Brown  minor  gets  to  work.  He  takes  a  por- 
tion of  the  crystalline  substance  and  heats  it 
red-hot,  in  the  hope  that  it  will  explode;  and 
treats  anotherwith  concentrated  sulphuric  acid 
in  order  to  stimulate  it  into  some  interestinor 
performance.  At  the  same  time  he  maintains  a 
running  fire  oisotto  voce  conversation  and  chaff 
with  his  neighbours — a  laboratory  offers  oppor- 
tunities for  social  intercourse  undreamed  of  in 
a  form-room — and  occasionally  leaves  his  own 
task  in  order  to  assist,  or  more  often  to  impede, 
the  labours  of  another.  When  he  returns  to  his 
place  he  not  infrequently  finds  that  his  last  de- 
coction (containing  the  balance  of  the  crystal- 
line substance)  has  boiled  over,  and  is  now  ly- 
ing in  a  simmering  pool  upon  the  bench,  or  that 
another  chemist  has  called  and  appropriated 
the  vessel  in  which  the  experiment  was  pro- 
ceeding, emptying  its  contents  down  the  sink. 
Not  a  whit  disturbed,  he  fills  up  the  time  with 
seme  work  of  independent  research,  such  as 

132 


THE   PURSUIT   OF  KNOWLEDGE 

the  manufacture  of  a  Roman  candle  or  the  pre- 
paration of  a  sample  of  nitro-glycerine.  At  the 
end  of  the  hour  he  reports  progress  to  his  in- 
structor, expressing  polite  regret  at  having 
failed  as  yet  to  solve  the  riddle  of  the  crystal- 
line substance;  and  returns  whistling  to  his 
form-room,  where  he  jeers  at  those  of  his  com- 
panions who  have  spent  the  morning  compos- 
ing Latin  Verses. 

No,  it  is  a  mistake  to  imagine  that  the  young 
of  the  human  animal  hungers  and  thirsts  after 
knowledore. 

Arthur  Robinson,  B.A.,  of  whom  previous 
mention  has  been  made,  soon  discovered  this 
fact;  or  rather,  soon  recognised  it;  for  he  was 
not  much  more  than  a  boy  himself.  He  was  an 
observant  and  efficient  young  man,  and  pres- 
ently he  made  further  discoveries. 

The  first  was  that  boys,  for  teaching  pur- 
poses, can  be  divided  into  three  classes: 

(A)  Boys  whose  conduct  is  uniformly  good, 
and  whose  industry  is  continuous.  Say  fifteen 
per  cent. 

For  example,  Master  Mole.  He  was  invari- 
ably punctual;  his  work  was  always  well  pre- 
pared; and  he  endured  a  good  deal  of  what 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

toilers  in  another  walk  of  life  term  "peaceful 
picketing"  for  contravening  one  of  the  funda- 
mental laws  of  schoolboy  trades-unionism  by 
continuing  to  work  when  the  master  was  out  of 
the  room. 

{B)  Boys  whose  conduct  is  uniformly  good 
— except  perhaps  in  the  matter  of  surreptitious 
refreshment — but  who  will  only  work  so  long 
as  they  are  watched.  Say  sixty  per  cent. 

Such  a  one  was  Master  Gibbs.  By  long  prac- 
tice he  had  acquired  the  art  of  looking  sup- 
remely alert  and  attentive  when  in  reality  his 
thoughts  were  at  the  back  of  beyond.  When 
engaged  in  writing  work  his  pen  would  move 
across  the  page  with  mechanical  regularity, 
what  time  both  eyes  were  fixed  upon  a  page 
torn  from  a  comic  paper  and  secreted  under  his 
manuscript.  He  gave  no  trouble  whatever,  but 
was  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  any  conscientious 
teacher. 

(C)  Boys  who  are  not  only  idle,  but  mis- 
chievous. Say  twenty-five  per  cent. 

There  was  Page,  whose  special  line  was  the 
composition  of  comic  answers  to  questions. 
Some  of  his  efforts  were  really  praiseworthy; 
but  like  all  adventurous  spirits  he  went  too  far 
at  last.  The  rod  descended  upon  the  day  when 

134 


THE   PURSUIT  OF   KNOWLEDGE 

he  translated  ccsridece puppes  "Skye  terriers"; 
and  thereafter  Master  Page  joked  no  more. 
But  it  was  a  privation  for  both  boy  and  master. 

Then  there  was  Chugleigh,  whose  strong 
suit  was  losing  books.  He  was  a  vigorous  and 
muscular  youth,  more  than  a  little  suspected  of 
being  a  bully;  but  he  appeared  to  be  quite  in- 
capable of  protecting  his  own  property.  Some- 
times he  grew  quite  pathetic  about  it.  He  gave 
Mr.  Robinson  to  understand, almostwith  tears, 
that  his  books  were  at  the  mercy  of  any  small 
boy  who  cared  to  snatch  them  from  him.  Cer- 
tainly he  never  had  any  in  form. 

"I  see  you  require  State  protection,"  said 
Arthur  Robinson  one  morning,  when  Chug- 
leigh put  in  an  appearance  without  a  single 
book  of  any  kind,  charged  with  a  rambling 
legend  about  his  locker  and  a  thief  in  the  night. 
He  scribbled  an  order.  "Take  this  to  the  librar- 
ian, and  get  a  set  of  new  books." 

Mr.  Chugleigh,  much  gratified — the  new 
books  would  be  paid  for  by  an  unsuspicious 
parent  and  could  be  sold  second-hand  at  the 
end  of  the  term — departed,  presently  to  return 
with  five  new  volumes  under  his  arm. 

"Write  your  name  in  them  all,"  said  Mr. 
Robinson  briskly. 

135 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

Chugleigh  obeyed,  as  slowly  as  possible. 

"Now  bring  all  the  books  here." 

Chugleigh  did  so,  a  little  puzzled. 

"For  the  future,"  announced  Mr.  Robinson, 
unmasking  his  batteries,  "in  order  to  give  you 
a  fair  chance  in  this  dishonest  world,  you  shall 
have  two  sets  of  the  books  in  use  in  this  form. 
I  will  keep  one  set  for  you.  The  others  you 
may  keep  or  lose  as  you  like,  but  whenever  you 
turn  up  here  without  a  book  I  shall  be  happy  to 
hire  you  out  the  necessary  duplicates,  at  a 
charge  of  threepence  per  book  per  hour.  This 
morning  you  will  require  a  Caesar,  a  grammar, 
and  a  Latin  Prose  book.  That  will  be  nine- 
pence.  Will  you  pay  cash,  or  shall  I  knock  it 
off  your  pocket-money  at  the  end  of  the  week?" 

He  locked  up  the  remaining  two  books  in 
his  desk,  and  the  demoralised  Chugleigh  re- 
sumed his  seat  amid  loud  laughter. 


II 

The  pursuit  of  knowledge,  like  the  pursuit  of 
other  precious  things  in  life,  occasionally  leads 
its  votaries  into  tortuous  ways.  Cribbing,  for 
instance. 

All  boys  crib  more  or  less.  It  is  not  suggest- 

136 


THE   PURSUIT  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

ed  that  the  more  shiful  forms  of  this  species  of 
self-help  are  universal,  or  even  common.  But 
the  milder  variations  are  practised  by  all,  with 
the  possible  exception  of  the  virtuous  fifteen 
per  cent,  previously  mentioned. 

The  average  boy's  attitude  towardscribbing 
is  precisely  the  same  as  his  attitude  towards 
other  types  of  misdemeanour:  that  is  to  say,  he 
regards  it  as  one  of  these  things  which  is  per- 
fectly justifiable  if  his  form-master  is  such  a 
weakling  as  to  permit  it.  It  is  all  part  of  the  et- 
ernal duel  between  the  teacher  and  the  taught. 

"Do  I  scribble  English  words  in  the  margin 
of  my  Xenophon?"  asks  the  boy.  "  Certainly. 
Do  I  surreptitiously  produce  loose  pages  of 
Euclid  from  my  pocket  and  copy  them  out, 
when  I  am  really  supposed  to  have  learned 
them  by  heart?  Of  course.  Why  should  I, 
through  sheer  excess  of  virtue,  handicap  my- 
self in  the  race  to  escape  the  punishmentof  fail- 
ure, simply  because  the  highly  qualified  expert 
who  is  paid  to  supervise  my  movements  fails  in 
his  plain  duty?" 

So  he  cribs. 

But  his  attitude  towards  the  matter  is  quite 
consistent,  for  when  he  rises  to  a  position  of 
trust  and  authority  in  the  school,  he  ceases  to 

^Z7 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

crib — at  least  flagrantly.  The  reason  is  that  he 
is  responsible  now  not  so  much  to  a  master  as 
to  his  own  sense  of  right  and  wrong;  and  he 
has  made  the  discovery  which  all  of  us  make  in 
the  end — that  the  little  finger  of  our  conscience 
is  often  thicker  than  the  hardest  taskmaster's 
loins. 

There  are  two  forms  of  cribbing,  and  school 
opinion  differentiates  very  sharply  between 
them.  There  is  cribbing  to  gain  marks,  and 
there  is  cribbing  to  save  trouble  or  avoid  pun- 
ishment. The  average  boy,  who  is  in  the  main 
an  honest  individual,  holds  aloof  from  the  form- 
er practice  because  he  feels  that  it  is  unsports- 
manlike— rather  like  stealing,  in  fact;  but  he 
usually  acquiesces  without  a  struggle  in  the 
conveniences  offered  by  the  second.  For  in- 
stance, he  refrains  from  furtively  copying  from 
his  neighbour,  for  he  regards  that  as  the  mean- 
est kind  of  brain-sucking.  (If  the  neighbour 
pushes  his  paper  towards  him  with  a  friendly 
smile,  that  of  course  is  a  different  matter.)  But 
he  is  greatly  addicted  to  a  more  venial  crime 
known  as  "paving."  The  paver  prepares  his 
translation  in  the  orthodox  manner,  but  when- 
ever he  has  occasion  to  look  up  a  word  in  a  lex- 
icon he  scribbles  its  meaning  in  the  margin  of 

138 


THE   PURSUIT  OF   KNOWLEDGE 

the  text,  or,  more  frequently,  just  over  the  word 
itself,  to  guard  against  loss  of  memory  on  the 
morrow. 

Much  less  common  is  the  actual  use  of  cribs 
— the  publications  of  the  eminent  house  of 
Bohn,  and  other  firms  of  less  reliability  and 
repute.  Most  boys  have  sufficient  honesty  and 
common  sense  to  realise  that  getting  up  work 
with  a  translation  is  an  unprofitable  business, 
though  at  the  same  time  they  are  often  unable 
to  resist  the  attractions  of  such  labour-saving 
appliances.  Their  excuse  is  always  the  same, 
and  it  is  not  a  bad  one. 

"If  the  School  Library,"  they  say,  "contains 
Jowett's  Thucydides  and  Jebb's  Sophocles  for 
all  the  Sixth  to  consult,  why  should  not  we,  in 
our  humblerwalkof scholarship, avail  ourselves 
of  the  occasional  assistance  of  Kiddem's  Keys 
to  the  Classics?" 

So  much  for  the  casual  cribber.  The  profes- 
sional— the  chronic — exercises  an  ingenuity, 
and  devotes  an  amount  of  time  and  labour  to 
the  perfecting  of  his  craft  which,  if  applied  dir- 
ectly to  his  allotted  task,  would  bring  him  out 
at  the  top  of  his  form.  In  a  little  periodical  en- 
titled The  Light  6^r(?(?w, published  in  Cambridge 
thirty  years  ago  by  a  young  Johnian  named 
139 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

Hilton  (who  might  have  rivalled  Calverley 
himself  had  he  lived  to  maturity),  we  have  a  bril- 
liant little  portrait  of  the  professional  cribber, 
executed  in  the  style  of  The  Heathen  Chinee.  It 
is  called  The  Heathen  Passee. 

In  the  crown  of  his  cap 

Were  the  Furies  and  Fates, 
And  an  elegant  map 
Of  the  Dorian  States: 
And  we  found  in  his  palms,  which  were  hollow, 
What  are  common  in  palms — that  is  dates. 

But  he  is  a  rare  bird,  the  confirmed  cribber, 
with  his  algebraical  formulae  written  on  his 
finger-nails,  and  history  notes  attached  to  un- 
reliable elastic  arrangements  which  shoot  up 
his  sleeve  out  of  reach  at  critical  moments.  The 
ordinary  boy  does  not  crib  unless  he  is  pressed 
for  time  or  in  danger  of  summary  execution. 
He  usually  limits  his  enterprises  to  co-operat- 
ive preparation — that  is  to  say,  the  splitting  up 
an  evening's  work  into  sections,  each  section 
being  prepared  by  one  boy  and  translated  to 
the  other  members  of  the  syndicate  afterwards 
— to  the  gleaning  of  discarded  lines  and  super- 
fluous tags  from  the  rough  copies  of  cleverer 
boys'  Latin  Verses,  and  to  the  acceptance  of  a 

140 


THE   PURSUIT  OF   KNOWLEDGE 

whispered  "prompt"  from  a  good  Samaritan 
when  badly  cornered  by  a  question. 

But  we  may  note  that  cribbing  is  not  confm- 
ed  to  schoolboys.  The  full  perfection  of  the  art 
is  only  attained  in  the  pass-examinations  of  the 
Universities  of  Oxford  and  Cambridcfe.  Then 
all  considerations  of  conscience  or  sportsman- 
ship are  flung  aside,  and  the  cribber  cribs,  not 
to  gain  distinction  or  outstrip  his  rivals,  but  to 
get  over  a  troublesome  fence  by  hook  or  crook 
and  have  done  with  it  .There  was  once  a  Fresh- 
man at  Cambridge  whose  name  began  with  M. 
This  accident  of  nomenclature  placed  him  dur- 
ing his  Little  Go  examination  in  the  next  seat 
to  a  burly  young  man  whom  he  recognised  with 
a  thrill  of  awe  as  thePresidentof  theC.U.B.C., 
whose  devotion  to  aquatic  sports  had  so  far 
preventedhim  from  clearingthe  academic  fence 
just  mentioned,  and  who  now,  at  the  beginning 
of  his  third  year,  was  entering,in  company  with 
a  collection  of  pink-faced  youths  fresh  from 
school,  upon  his  ninth  attempt  to  satisfy  the 
examiners  in  Part  One  of  the  Previous  Exam- 
ination. 

Our  friend,  havingcompleted  his  first  paper, 
quitted  the  Senate  House  and  returned  to  his 
rooms,  to  fortify  himself  with  luncheon  before 
141 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

the  next.  During  the  progress  of  that  meal  a 
strange  gyp  called  upon  hhn,  and  proffered  a 
note,  mysteriously. 

"From  Mr.  M ,  sir, "he  said, mentioning 

the  name  of  the  Freshman's  exalted  neighbour 
in  the  examination  room. 

The  Freshman  opened  the  note  with  tremb- 
ling fingers.  Was  it  possible  that  he  had  been 
singled  out  as  a  likely  oar  already? 

.  •  •  •  •  • 

The  note  was  brief,  but  to  the  point.  Itsaid: 

''De7'e  Sir, 

Please  write  larger. 

Yours  truly, 

J.M ." 

Ill 
However,  this  is  a  digression.  Let  us  return 
for  the  last  time  to  Arthur  Robinson's  three 
divisions  of  youthful  humanity.  Class  A  he 
found  extraordinarily  dull.  They  requiredlittle 
instruction  and  no  supervision;  in  fact,  they 
were  self-educators  of  the  most  automatic  type. 
Class  B  were  a  perpetual  wearinessto  the  flesh. 
They  gave  no  trouble,  but  their  apathy  was  ap- 
palling. However,  a  certain  amount  of  enter- 
tainment could  beextractedfromstudyingtheir 

142 


THE   PURSUIT  OF   KNOWLEDGE 

methods  of  evading  work  or  supplying  them- 
selves with  refreshment.  There  was  the  ineeni- 
ous  device  of  Master  Jobling.for  instance.  Mr. 
Robinson  noted  that  this  youth  was  in  the 
habit,  during  lecture-time,  of  sitting  with  his 
elbows  resting  on  his  desk  and  his  chin  buried 
in  his  hands,  his  mouth,  or  a  corner  thereof,  be- 
ing covered  by  his  fingers.  His  attitude  was  one 
of  rapt  attention,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  un- 
winkingly  upon  the  lecturer.  Such  virtue, com- 
ing from  Master  Jobling,  roused  unworthy  sus- 
picions in  the  breast  of  Arthur  Robinson.  He 
observed  that  although  the  youth's  attitude  was 
one  of  rigid  immobility,  his  facial  muscles  were 
agitated  from  time  to  time  by  a  slight  convuls- 
ive movement.  Accordingly,  one  day,  he  step- 
ped swiftly  across  the  room,  and  taking  IMaster 
Jobling  by  the  hair,  demanded  an  explanation. 
It  was  forthcoming  immediately,  in  the  form  of 
a  long  thin  indiarubber  tube,  of  the  baby's-bot- 
tle  variety;  one  end  of  which  was  held  between 
Master  Jobling's  teeth,  while  the  other  com- 
municated, via  his  right  sleeve,  with  a  bottle  of 
ginger-beer  secreted  somewhere  in  the  recesses 
of  his  person.  From  this  reservoir  he  had  been 
refreshing  himself  from  time  to  time  by  a  pro- 
cess of  suction. 

143 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

Mr  Robinson,  who  believed  in  making  the 
punishment  fit  the  crime,  purchased  a  baby's 
"soother"  from  the  chemist's,  and  condemned 
JobHng  to  put  it  to  its  rightful  use  during  every 
school-hour  for  the  rest  of  the  week.  He  was 
only  allowed  to  remove  it  from  his  lips  in  order 
to  answer  a  question. 

Class  C,  the  professional  malefactors,  Mr. 
Robinson  found  extremely  attractive.  They  ap- 
peared to  possess  all  the  character  and  quite  half 
the  brains  of  the  form.  But  this  is  a  permanent 
characteristic  ofthe malefactor,  and  is  most  dis- 
couraofinof  to  the  virtuous. 

Once,  early  in  his  career,  Robinson  was  badly 
caueht.  On  enterinor  his  form-room  one  winter 
evening,  when  darkness  had  fallen  and  the  gas 
was  ablaze,  his  eye  fell  upon  the  great  plate- 
glass  window  which  filled  the  south  wall  of  the 
room.  Form-room  windows  are  not  usually  sup- 
plied with  blinds,  and  this  window  stood  black 
and  opaque  against  the  darkness  of  night. 
Right  in  the  centre  of  the  glass  was  a  great 
white  star,  which  radiated  out  in  all  directions 
in  a  series  of  splintered  cracks. 

Mr.  Robinson  knew  well  what  had  happened. 
Some  one  hadhurled  a  stone  inkpot  againstthe 
window.   Only  last  week  he  had  had  occasion 

144 


THE   PURSUIT  OF   KNOWLEDGE 

to  discourage  target-practice  of  this  kind  by  ex- 
emplary measures.  He  addressed  the  crowded 
form  angrily. 

"Who  broke  that  window?" 

"It  is  not  broken,  sir,"  volunteered  a  polite 
voice. 

Arthur  Robinson  was  a  young  man  who  did 
not  suffer  impudence  readily. 

"This  is  not  precisely  the  moment, "he  rapp- 
ed out,  "for  nice  distinctions.  The  window  is 
cracked,  starred,  splintered  —  anything  you 
like.  I  wantthenameof  the  boy  who  damaged 
it.  At  once,  please!" 

Silence.  Yet  it  was  not  the  sullen,  obstinate 
silence  which  prevails  when  boys  are  endeav- 
ourino-to  screen  one  another.  Onewouldalmost 
have  called  it  silent  satisfaction.  But  Arthur 
Robinson  was  too  angryandnot  sufficiently  ex- 
perienced to  note  the  distinction.  Naming  each 
boy  by  name,  he  demanded  of  him  whether  or 
no  he  had  broken  the  window.  Each  boy  polite- 
ly denied  the  impeachment.  One  or  two  were 
courteous  to  the  point  of  patronage. 

Suddenly,  from  the  back  bench,  came  a  faint 
chuckle.  Arthur  Robinson, consciousof  a  sickly 
feeling  down  his  spine,  rose  to  his  feet  and 
approached  the  splintered  window.  The  form 
145  K 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

watched  himwith  breathless  joy.  Hot  faced,  he 
rubbed  one  of  the  rays  of  the  star  with  his  fing- 
ers. It  promptly  disappeared. 

The  window  was  undamaged.  The  star  was 
artistically  executed  in  white  chalk. 

Malefactors  have  their  weak  spots,  too. 

One  afternoon  Mr.  Robinsonheldan  "extra." 
That  is  to  say,  he  brought  in  a  body  of  sinful 
youths,  composed  of  the  riff-raff  of  his  form,  for 
a  period  of  detention,  and  set  them  a  stiff  im- 
position to  write  out.  About  half-way  through 
the  weary  hour  he  produced  from  his  locked 
desk  an  old  cigarette-box  containing  sundry 
coins.  Laying  these  out  before  him,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  count  them. The  perfunctory  scratch- 
ing of  pens  ceased,  and  the  assembled  company, 
most  of  whom  had  been  unwilling  contributors 
to  the  fund  under  review,  gazed  with  lack-lus- 
tre eyes  at  their  late  property. 

**Fourteen-and-nine,"  announced  Mr.  Rob- 
inson cheerfully.  'That  is  the  sum  which  I 
have  collected  from  you  this  term  in  return  for 
the  loan  of  such  useful  articles  as  pens  and 
blotting-paper.  I  know  my  charges  are  high; 
but  then  I  am  a  monopolist  to  people  who  are 
foolish  enousfh  to  come  in  here  without  their 
proper  equipment.  Again,  though  threepence 

146 


THE   PURSUIT  OF   KNOWLEDGE 

may  seem  a  fancy  price  for  a  small  piece  of 
blotting--paper,  it  is  better  to  pay  threepence 
for  a  piece  of  blotting-paper  than  use  your 
handkerchief,  which  is  worth  a  shilling.  How- 
ever, the  total  is  fourteen-and-nine.  Whatshall 
we  do  with  it?  Christmas  is  only  a  fortnightoff, 
and  I  propose,  with  your  approval,  to  send  this 
contribution  of  yours  to  a  society  which  pro- 
vides Christmas  dinnersfor  peoplewho  areless 
lavishly  provided  for  in  that  respect  than  our- 
selves. If  it  interests  you  at  all,  I  will  get  the 
Society's  full  title  and  address  and  read  them 
to  you." 

Arthur  Robinson  was  out  of  the  room  for 
perhaps  three  minutes.  When  he  returned  he 
was  immediately  conscious,  from  the  guilty 
stillness  which  reigned,  and  the  self-conscious 
air  of  detachment  with  which  everybody  was 
writing,  that  something  was  amiss.  He  glanced 
sharply  at  the  little  pile  of  money  on  his  desk. 

It  had  grown  from  fourteen-and-ninepence 
to  twenty-seven-and-sixpence. 

Life  is  full  of  compensations  —  even  for 
schoolmasters. 


CHAPTER    SIX 
SCHOOL    STORIES 


CHAP.  SIX    SCHOOL  STORIES 

ONE  OF  THE  MOST  STRIKING  FEA- 
tures  of  the  present-day  cult  of  The  Child  isthe 
fact  that  whereas  school  stories  were  formerly 
written  to  be  read  by  schoolboys,  they  are  now 
written  to  be  read — and  are  read  with  avidity 
— by  grown-up  persons. 

This  revolution  has  produced  some  abiding 
results.  In  the  first  place,  school  stories  are 
much  better  written  than  they  were.  Second- 
ly, a  certain  proportion  of  the  limelight  has 
been  shifted  from  the  boy  to  the  master,  with 
the  result  that  school  life  is  now  presented  in 
a  more  true  and  corporate  manner.  Thirdly, 
school  stories  have  become  less  romantic,  less 
sentimental,  more  coldly  psychological.  They 
are  tinged  with  adult  worldliness,  and,  too 
often,  with  adult  pessimism.  As  literature  they 
are  an  enormous  advance  upon  their  predeces- 
sors; but  what  they  have  gained  in  savoirfaire 
they  appear  to  have  lost  mj'oie  de  vivre. 

Let  us  enter  upon  the  ever-fascinating  task 
of  comparing  the  old  with  the  new. 

To  represent  the  ancients  we  will  take  that 
immortal  giant,  Zb;;^^r^w;2.  Withhim,  as  they 
say  in  legal  circles,  Eric.  Many  people  will  say, 
and  they  will  be  right,  that  Tom  Brown  would 
make  a  much  braver  show  for  the  old  brisfade 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

if  put  forward  alone,  minus  his  depressing  com- 
panion. But  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  it  takes 
more  than  one  book  to  represent  a  literary  era. 
We  will  therefore  call  upon  Tom  Brown  and 
Eric  Williams  between  them  to  represent  the 
schoolboy  of  a  bygone  age. 

Most  of  us  make  Tom  Brown's  acquaint- 
ance in  early  youth.  We  fortify  ourselves  with 
a  course  of  him  before  going  to  school  for  the 
first  time — at  the  age  of  twelve  or  thereabouts 
— and  we  quickly  realise,  even  at  that  tender 
age,  that  there  were  giants  in  those  days. 

Have  you  ever  considered  Tom  Brown's 
first  day  at  school?  No?  Then  observe.  He 
was  called  at  half-past  two  in  the  morning,  at 
the  Peacock  Inn,  Islington,  and  by  three  o'clock 
was  off  as  an  "outside"  upon  the  Tally- Ho 
Coach,  in  the  small  hours  of  a  November  morn- 
ing, on  an  eighty-mile  drive  to  Rugby. 

He  arrived  at  his  destination  just  in  time  to 
take  dinner  in  Hall,  chaperoned  by  his  new 
friend  East;  and  then,  rt^/^r^  Old  Brooke,  plunged 
into  that  historic  football  match  between  the 
Schoolhouse  and  the  School — sixty  on  one  side 
and  two  hundred  on  the  other.  Modern  gladi- 
ators who  consider  "two  thirty-fives"  a  pretty 
stiff  period  of  play  will  be  interested  to  notethat 

152 


rHt  FAG  : 

SIC  vos  SON  vmu-- 


SCHOOL    STORIES 

this  battle  raged  for  three  hours,  and  that  the 
Schoolhouse  were  filled  with  surprise  and  rap- 
tureatachievinga  goal  after  only  sixty  minutes' 
play.  ("A  goal  in  an  hour!  Such  a  thing  had 
not  been  done  in  a  Schoolhouse  match  these 
five  years.") 

In  the  course  of  the  game  Tom  was  knocked 
over  while  stopping  a  rush,  and  as  the  result  of 
spendingsome  minutes  at  the  bottom  of  a  heap 
of  humanity  composed  of  a  goodly  proportion 
of  his  two  hundred  opponents,  was  finally  haul- 
ed out  "a  motionless  body."  However,  he  re- 
covered sufficiently  to  be  able  to  entertainEast 
to  tea  and  sausages  in  the  Lower  Fifth  School. 
After  a  brief  interval  for  ablution  came  supper, 
followed  by  a  free-and-easy  musical  entertain- 
ment in  the  Schoolhouse  hall,  which  included 
singing,  a  good  deal  of  indiscriminate  beer- 
drinking,  and  thefamous  speech  ofOld  Brooke. 
Tom,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  obliged  with 
a  song — "with  much  applause." 

Then  came  prayers,  and  Tom's  first  glimpse 
of  the  mighty  Arnold.  (We  may  note  here  that 
a  new  boy  of  the  old  days  was  not  apparently 
troubled  by  tiresome  regulations  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  reporting  himself  to  his  housemaster  on 
arrival.)  Even  then  Tom's  first  day  from  home 

153 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

was  not  over,  for  before  retiring  to  his  slumber 
he  was  tossed  in  a  blanket  three  times.  Not  a 
bad  record  for  a  boy  of  twelve!  And  yet  we  flat- 
ter ourselves  that  we  live  a  strenuous  life. 

Customs  have  changed  in  many  respects 
since  Tom  Brown's  time.  Public  schoolboys  of 
eighteen  or  nineteen  do  not  now  wear  beards, 
neither  do  they  carry  pea-shooters.  Our  ath- 
letes array  themselves  for  battle  in  the  shortest 
of  shorts  and  the  thinnest  of  jerseys. The  parti- 
cipators in  the  three-hour  Schoolhouse  match 
merely  took  off  their  jackets  and  hung  them 
upon  the  railings  or  trees.  We  are  told,  how- 
ever, with  some  pride,  that  those  who  meant 
real  work  added  their  hats,  waistcoats,  neck- 
handkerchiefs,  and  braces!  What  of  those  who 
did  not?  Again,  a  captain  does  not  nowadays 
"administer  toco"  upon  the  field  of  battle  to 
subordinates  who  have  failed  to  prevent  the 
enemy  from  scoring  a  try.  Again,  no  master  of 
to-day  would  dare  to  admit  to  a  boy  that  he 
"does  not  understand"  cricket,  or  for  that  mat- 
ter draw  parallels  between  cricket  and  Aristo- 
phanes for  the  benefit  of  an  attentive  audience 
in  a  corner  of  the  playing-field  during  a  school 
match. 

But  we  accept  all  these  incidents  in  Tom 

154 


SCHOOL    STORIES 

Brown  without  question.  We  never  dream  of 
doubting  that  they  occurred,  or  could  have  oc- 
curred. Arthur,  we  admit,  is  a  rare  bird,  but  he 
is  credible.  Even  East's  religious  difficulties, 
or  rather  his  anxiety  to  discuss  them,  are  made 
convincing.  The  reason  is  that  Toj?i  Brown 
contains  nothinjr  that  is  alien  from  human  nat- 
ure — schoolboy  human  nature.  It  is  the  real 
thing  all  through.  Across  the  ages  Tom  Brown 
of  Rugby  speaks  to  Brown  minor  (also,  poss- 
ibly, of  Rugby)  with  the  voice  of  a  brother.  De- 
tails may  have  changed,  but  the  essentials  are 
the  same.  "How  different,"  we  say,  "but  oh, 
how  like!" 

Not  so  at  all  times  with  Eric,  or  Little  by 
Little.  Here  we  miss  the  robust  philistinism  of 
the  eternal  schoolboy,  and  the  atmosphere  of 
reality  which  pervades  Tom  Brown.  We  feel 
that  we  are  not  living  2i.  story,  but  merely  read- 
ing it.  Eric  does  not  ring  true.  We  suspect 
the  reverend  author — to  employ  an  expression 
which  his  hero  would  never  have  used — of 
"talking  through  his  hat." 

None  of  us  desire  to  scoff  at  true  piety  or 
moral  loftiness,  but  we  feel  instinctively  that 
in  Eric  these  virtues  are  somewhat  indecently 
paraded.  The  schoolboy  is  essentiallya  matter- 

155 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

of-fact  animal,  and  extremely  reticent.  He  is 
not  usually  concerned  with  the  state  of  his  soul, 
and  never  under  any  circumstances  anxious  to 
discuss  the  matter;  and  above  all  he  abhors  the 
preacher  and  the  prig.  E^Hc,  or  Little  by  Little 
is  priggish  from  start  to  finish.  Compare,  for 
instance,  Eric's  father  and  Squire  Brown.  Here 
are  the  Squire's  meditations  as  to  the  advice  he 
should  give  Tom  before  saying  good-bye: 

"I  won't  tell  him  to  read  his  Bible,  and  love  and 
serve  God;  if  he  don't  do  that  for  his  mother's  sake 
and  teaching,  he  won't  for  mine.  Shall  I  go  into  the 
sort  of  temptations  he'll  meet  with?  No,  I  can't  do  that. 
Never  do  for  an  old  fellow  to  go  into  such  things  with 
a  boy.  He  won't  understand  me.  Do  him  more  harm 
than  good,  ten  to  one.  Shall  I  tell  him  to  mind  his  work, 
and  say  he's  sent  to  school  to  make  himself  a  good 
scholar?  Well,  but  he  isn't  sent  to  school  for  that — at 
any  rate,  not  for  that  mainly.  I  don't  care  a  straw  for 
Greek  particles,  or  the  digamraa;  no  more  does  his 
mother.  What  is  he  sent  to  school  for?  Well,  partly 
because  he  wanted  so  to  go.  If  he'll  only  turn  out  a 
brave,  helpful,  truth- telling  Englishman,  and  a  gentle- 
man, and  a  Christian,  that's  all  I  want." 

Now  compare  Eric's  father  in  one  of  his  pub- 
lic appearances.  That  worthy  but  tiresome 
gentleman  suddenly  descends  upon  the  bully 
Barker,  engaged  in  chastising  Eric. 

156 


SCHOOL    STORIES 

"There  had  been  an  unobserved  spectator  of  the 
whole  scene,  in  the  person  of  Mr.  Wilh'anis  himself, 
and  it  was  his  strong  hand  that  now  gripped  Barker's 
shoulder.  He  was  greatly  respected  by  the  boys,  who 
all  knew  his  tall  handsome  figure  by  sight,  and  he  fre- 
quently stood  a  quiet  and  pleased  observer  of  their 
games.  The  boys  in  the  playground  came  crowding 
round,  and  Barker  in  vain  struggled  to  escape.  Mr. 
Williams  held  him  firml}',  and  said  in  a  calm  voice, 
*I  have  just  seen  you  treat  one  of  your  schoolfellows 
with  the  grossest  violence.  It  makes  me  blush  for  you, 
Roslyn  boys,'  he  continued,  turning  to  the  group  that 
surrounded  him,  'that  you  can  even  for  a  moment 
stand  by  unmoved,  and  see  such  things  done.  Now; 
mark;  it  makes  no  difference  that  the  boy  who  has  been 
hurt  is  my  own  son;  I  would  have  punished  this  scoun- 
drel whoever  it  had  been,  and  I  shall  punish  him  now.' 
With  these  words,  he  lifted  the  riding-whip  which  he 
happened  to  be  carrying,  and  gave  Barker  by  far  the 
severest  castigation  he  had  ever  undergone.  He  be- 
laboured him  till  his  sullen  obstinacy  gave  way  to  a 
roar  for  mercy,  and  promises  never  so  to  offend  again. 

"At  this  crisis  he  flung  the  boy  from  him  with  a 
'phew'  of  disgust,  and  said,  'I  give  nothing  for  your 
word;  but  if  ever  you  do  bully  in  this  way  again,  and 
I  see  or  hear  of  it,  3'our  present  punishment  shall  be  a 
trifle  to  what  I  shall  then  administer.  At  present,  thank 
me  for  not  informing  j'our  master.'  So  saying,  he  made 
Barker  pick  up  the  cap,  and,  turning  awa}',  walked 
home  with  Eric  leaning  on  his  arm." 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

Poor  Eric!  What  chance  can  a  boy  have  had 
whose  egregious  parent  insisted  upon  outrag- 
ing every  canon  of  schoolboy  law  on  his  behalf? 
We  are  not  altogether  surprised  to  read,  a  little 
later, that  though  from  that  day  Eric  was  never 
troubled  with  personal  violence  from  Barker, 
"rancour  smouldered  deep  in  the  heart  of  the 
baffled  tyrant." 

Then,  as  already  noted,  the  atmosphere  and 
incidentsof  ^r/^  fail  to  carry  conviction.  Mak- 
ing every  allowance  for  the  eccentricities  of 
people  who  lived  sixty  years  ago,  the  modern 
boysimplyrefusestocreditthe  idea  of  members 
of  a  "decent"  school  indulging  in  "a  superior 
titter"  when  one  of  their  number  performed  the 
everyday  feat  of  breaking  down  in  translation. 
He  finds  it  hard  to  believe  that  Owen  (who  is 
labelled  with  damning  enthusiasm  "a  boy  of 
mental  superiority")  would  really  report  an- 
other boy  for  kicking  him,  and  quite  incredible 
that  after  the  kicker  had  been  flogged  the  virtu- 
ous Owen  should  "have  the  keen  mortification 
of  seeing  'Owen  is  a  sneak' written  up  all  about 
the  walls."  As  for  Eric  and  Russell,  sitting  on 
a  green  bank  beside  the  sea  and  "looking  into 
one  another's  eyes  and  silently  promising  that 
they  will  be  loving  friends  for  ever" — the  spect- 

158 


SCHOOL    STORIES 

acle  makes  the  undemonstrative  young  Briton 
physically  unwell.  Again,  no  schoolboy  ever 
called  lighted  candles  "superfluous  abundance 
of  nocturnal  illumination";  and  noschoolmaster 
under  any  circumstances  ever  "laid  a  gentle 
hand"  upon  a  schoolboy's  head.  A  hand,  poss- 
ibly, but  not  a  gentle  one.  Lower  School  boys 
are  not  given  ^schylus  to  read;  and  if  they 
were  they  would  not  waste  their  play-hours 
discussing  the  best  rendering  of  a  particularly 
knotty  passage  occurring  in  a  lesson  happily 
over  and  done  with. 

If  the  first  ha.\(  of  Brzc  is  overdrawn  and  im- 
probable, the  second  is  rank  melodrama — and 
bad  melodrama  at  that.  The  trial  scene  is  im- 
possibly theatrical,  and  Russell's  illness  and 
death-bed  deliverances  are  an  outrage  on 
schoolboy  reserve. 

Listen  again  to  one  Montagu,  a  sixth-form 
boy  who  has  caught  a  gang  of  dormitory  roys- 
terers  preparing  an  apple-pie  bedfor  him.  Does 
he  call  them  "cheeky  young  swine,"  and  knock 
their  heads  together?  No! 

"  'By  heavens,  this  is  foo  bad!'  he  exclaimed,  stamp- 
ing his  foot  with  anger.  'What  have  I  ever  done  to 
3'ou  young  blackguards  that  you  should  treat  me 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

thus?  Have  I  ever  been  a  bully?  Have  I  ever  harmed 
one  of  you?  And/<?z/,  too,  Vernon  Williams!' 

"The  little  boy  trembled  and  looked  ashamed  under 
his  glance  of  sorrow  and  scorn. 

'"Well,  I  know  who  has  put  you  up  to  this;  but  you 
shall  not  escape  so.  I  shall  thrash  you,  every  one.' 

"Very  quietly  he  suited  the  action  to  the  word, 
sparing  none." 

These  silent,  strong  men! 
Again,  do,  or  did,  English  schoolboys  ever 
behave  like  this? 

"Vernon  hid  his  face  on  Eric's  shoulder;  and,  as  his 
brother  stooped  over  him  and  folded  him  to  his  heart, 
they  cried  in  silence,  for  there  seemed  no  more  to  say, 
until,  wearied  with  sorrow,  the  younger  fell  asleep; 
and  then  Eric  carried  him  tenderly  downstairs,  and 
laid  him,  still  half-sleeping,  upon  his  bed." 

The  characters  in  Eric  are  far  superior  to  the 
incidents.  They  may  be  exaggerated  and  irrit- 
ating, but  they  are  consistently  drawn.  Wild- 
ney  is  a  true  type,  and  still  exists.  Russell  is  a 
fair  specimen  of  a  "good"  boy,  though  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  feel  for  him  the  tenderness  which  most  of 
us  extend,  perhaps  furtively,  to  Arthur  in  Tom 
Brozvn.  But  some  of  the  masters  are  beyond 
comprehension.  Pious  but  depressing  peda- 

i6o 


SCHOOL    STORIES 

gogues  of  the  type  of  Mr.  Rose  (who  at  mom- 
ents of  crisis,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  usu- 
ally to  be  found  upon  his  knees  in  the  School 
Library,  oblivious  of  the  greater  privacy  and 
comfort  offered  by  his  bedroom)  have  faded 
from  our  midst.  Their  place  to-day  is  occupied 
by  efficient  and  unsentimental  young  men  in 
fancy  waistcoats. 

But  the  book  for  clear  types  is  Tom  Broivn. 
East,  the  two  Brookes, and  Arthur — we  recog- 
nise them  all.  There  is  Flashman  the  bully — 
an  epitome  of  all  bullies.  He  is  of  an  everlast- 
ing pattern.  And  there  is  that  curiouslyattract- 
ive  person  Martin,  the  scientist,  with  his  jack- 
daw and  his  chemical  research,  and  his  chronic 
impecuniosity.  You  remember  how  he  used  to 
barter  his  allowance  of  candles  for  birds'  eggs; 
with  the  result  that,  in  those  pre-gas-and-elec- 
tricity  days,  he  was  reduced  to  doing  his  pre- 
paration by  the  glow  of  the  fire,  or  "by  the  light 
of  a  flaring  cotton  wick,  issuing  from  a  ginger- 
beer  bottle  full  of  some  doleful  composition"? 
Lastly,  there  is  Arnold  himself.  He  is  only  re- 
vealed to  us  in  glimpses:  he  emerges  now  and 
then  like  a  mountain-peak  from  clouds;  but  is 
none  the  less  imposing  for  that. 

What  impression  of  bygone  schoolboy  life 
i6i  L 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

do    Tom  Brown  and  Eric  make  upon   our 
minds? 

The  outstanding  sensation  appears  to  be  this, 
that  fifty  years  ago  life  at  school  was  more 
spacious  than  now — more  full  of  incident  and 
variety.  In  those  days  a  boy's  spare  time  was 
his  own.  How  did  he  spend  his  half-holidays? 
If  he  was  a  good  boy — good  in  the  bad  sense  of 
the  word — he  went  and  sat  upon  a  hill-top  and 
admired  the  scenery,  or  thought  of  his  mother, 
or  possibly  gripped  another  good  boy  by  the 
hand  and  said:  "Let  me  call  you  Edwin,  and 
you  shall  always  call  me  Eric."  If  he  was  a 
normalhealthy  boy  he  went  swimming,or  bird- 
nesting,  or  (more  usually)  poaching,  and  gener- 
ally encountered  adventure  by  the  way.  If  he 
was  a  bad  boy  he  retired  with  other  malefactors 
to  a  public-house,  where  he  indulged  in  an  orgy 
of  roast  goose  and  brandy-and-water. 

Nous  avons  changi  tout  cela.  Compulsory 
games  have  put  an  end  to  such  licence,  and  in 
so  doing  have  docked  a  good  deal  of  liberty  as 
well.  The  result  has  been  to  emphasize  the 
type  at  the  expense  of  the  individual.  It  is  a 
good  type — a  grand  type — but  it  bears  hardly 
upon  some  of  its  more  angular  components. 
The  new  system  keeps  the  weak  boy  out  of 

162 


SCHOOL    STORIES 

temptation  and  the  idle  boy  out  of  mischief;  but 
the  quiet, reflective,  unathletic  boy  hates  it.  He 
has  little  chance  now  to  dream  dreams  or  com- 
mune with  nature.  Still,  his  chance  comes  later 
in  life;  and  as  we  all  have  to  learn  to  toe  the  line 
at  some  time  or  another,  thrice  blessed  is  he 
who  gets  over  the  lesson  in  early  youth. 

The  prefectorial  system,  too,  has  enlarged 
boys'  sense  of  responsibility,  and  has  put  an 
end  to  many  abuses  which  no  master  could 
ever  reach.  But  on  the  whole  we  may  say  of 
the  public-school  boy  throughout  the  ages  that 
plus  que  I' on  le  change,  plus  c  est  la  meme  chose. 
Schoolboy  gods  have  not  altered.  Strength, 
fleetness  of  foot,  physical  beauty,  loyalty  to 
one's  House  and  one's  School — youth  still 
worships  these  things.  There  is  the  same  ad- 
miration for  natural hnWldncy, he  it  in  athletics 
or  conversation  or  scholarship,  and  the  same 
curious  contempt  for  the  plodder — even  the 
successful  plodder — in  all  departments  of  life. 
The  weakest  still  goes  to  the  wall.  He  is  not 
bumped  against  it  so  vigorously  as  he  used  to 
be;  but  he  still  goes  there,  and  always  will. 

Still,  has  the  present  generation  developed 
no  new  characteristics?  Let  us  turn  to  a  batch 
of  modern  school  stories,  and  see. 
163 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

We  have  many  to  choose  from — Stalky,  for 
instance.  Stalky  has  come  in  for  a  shower  of 
abuse  from  certain  quarters.  He  hits  the  senti- 
mentalist hard.  We  are  told  that  the  book  is 
vulgar,  that  the  famous  trio  are  "little  beasts." 
(I  think  Mr.  A.  C.  Benson  said  so.)  Still,  Mr. 
Kipling  never  touches  any  subject  which  he 
does  not  adorn,  and  in  Stalky  he  brings  out 
vividly  some  of  the  salient  features  of  modern 
school  life.  He  has  drawn  masters  as  they  have 
never  been  drawn  before:  the  portraits  may  be 
cruel,  biassed,  not  sufficiently  representative; 
but  how  they  live!  He  has  put  the  case  for  the 
unathletic  boy  with  convincing  truth.  He  de- 
picts, too,  very  faithfully,  the  curious  camarad- 
^r2V  which  prevails  nowadays  between  boys  and 
masters,  and  pokes  mordant  fun  at  the  syco- 
phancy which  this  state  of  things  breeds  in  a 
certain  type  of  boy — the  "Oh,  sir!  and  No,  sir! 
and  Yes,  sir!  and  Please,  sir!"  brigade — and 
deals  faithfully  with  the  master  who  takes  ad- 
vantage of  out-of-school  intimacy  to  befamiliar 
and  offensive  in  school,  addressing  boys  by 
their  nicknames  and  making  humorous  refer- 
ence to  extra-scholastic  incidents.  And  above 
all  Mr.  Kipling  knows  the  heart  of  a  boy.  He 
understands,  above  all  men,  a  boy's  intense 

164 


SCHOOL  STORIES 
reserve  upon  matters  that  lie  deepest  within 
him, and  his  shrinking  from  and  repugnance  to 
unrestrained  and  blatant  discussion  of  these 
things.  Do  you  remember  the  story  of  the  fat 
man  —  "the  jelly-bellied  flag-flapper" — who 
came  down  to  lecture  to  the  school  on  patriot- 
ism? 

"Now  the  reserve  of  a  boy  is  tenfold  deeper  than 
the  reserve  of  a  maid,  she  having  been  made  for  one 
end  only  by  blind  Nature,  but  man  for  several.  With 
a  large  and  healthy  hand  he  tore  down  these  veils,  and 
trampled  them  under  the  well-intentioned  feet  of  elo- 
quence. In  a  raucous  voice  he  cried  aloud  little  mat- 
ters, like  the  hope  of  Honour  and  the  dream  of  Glory, 
that  boys  do  not  discuss  with  their  most  intimate 
equals. . . .  He  profaned  the  most  secret  places  of  their 
souls  with  outcries  and  gesticulations.  He  bade  them 
consider  the  deeds  of  their  ancestors,  in  such  fashion 
that  they  were  flushed  to  their  tingling  ears.  Some  of 
them — the  rending  voice  cut  a  frozen  stillness — might 
have  had  relatives  who  perished  in  defence  of  their 
country.  (They  thought,  not  a  few  of  them,  of  an  old 
sword  in  a  passage,  or  above  a  breakfast-table,  seen 
and  fingered  by  stealth  since  they  could  walk.)  He 
adjured  them  to  emulate  those  illustrious  examples; 
and  they  looked  all  ways  in  their  extreme  discomfort. 

"Their  years  forbade  them  even  to  shape  their 
thoughts  clearly  to  themselves.  They  felt  savagely 
that  they  were  being  outraged  by  a  fat  man  who  con- 

165 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

sidered  marbles  a  game.  . . .  What,  in  the  name  of 
everything  caddish,  was  he  driving  at,  who  waved  this 
horror  before  their  eyes?" 

It  was  a  Union  Jack,  you  will  remember, 
suddenly  unfurled  by  way  of  peroration. 

"Happy  thought!  Perhaps  he  was  drunk." 

That  is  true,  true,  all  through. 

Then  comes  another  class  of  school-story — 
the  school-story  written  primarily  for  boys. 
Such  are  the  books  of  Mr.  Talbot  Baines  Reed. 
These  are  regarded  as  somewhat  vieux  jeu  at 
the  present  day,  but  in  their  own  particular 
line  they  have  never  been  bettered.  They  were 
written  to  be  read  by  comparatively  young  boys 
inasemi-religious  magazine;  and  anybody  who 
has  ever  attempted  to  write  a  tale  which  shall 
be  probable  yet  interesting,  and  racy  yet  moral, 
will  realise  how  admirably  Mr.  Reed  has  a- 
chieved  this  feat — in  such  books  as  TheWil- 
loughby  Captains,  The  Master  of  the  Shell,  and 
The  Fifth  Fori7t  at  St.  Dominic  s. 

Another  excellent  book  is  Godfrey  Marten, 
Schoolboy.  Here  Mr.  Charles  Turley  achieves 
success  by  the  most  commendable  means.  He 
eschews  the  theatrical.  His  story  contains  no 
death-bed  heroics;  no  rescues  from  drowning; 
no  highly-coloured  moral  crises.   He  takes  as 

i66 


SCHOOL    STORIES 

his  theme  the  humdrum  daily  life — and  no  one 
who  has  not  lived  through  itfor  weeks  at  a  time 
knows  how  humdrum  it  can  be — of  a  public 
school,  and  makes  it  interesting.  He  lacks  fire, 
it  may  be  said,  but  he  avoids  the  sentimentality 
of  the  old  school  and  the  cynicism  of  the  new. 

Perhaps  the  best  of  all  this  class  is  The  Bend- 
ing of  a  Twig,  by  Mr.  Desmond  Coke — an  ab- 
solutely faithful  picture,  drawn  with  unerring 
instinct  and  refreshing  humour.  In  fact  it  is  so 
much  the  real  thing  that  at  times  it  is  a  trifle 
monotonous,  just  because  school  life  at  times  is 
a  trifle  monotonous.  But  those  who  know  what 
schoolboys  are  cannot  fail  to  appreciate  the  in- 
trinsic merits  ofthis  book.  It  gentlyderides  the 
stagey  incidents  and  emotional  heroics  of  the 
old  style  of  school  story.  Here  a  small  boy 
comes  to  Shrewsbury  primed  with  the  lore  of 
Eric  and  Tom  Brown  and  The  Hill,  fully  ex- 
pecting to  be  tossed  in  a  blanket  or  roasted  on 
sight.  But  nothing  happens:  he  is  merely  ig- 
nored. He  has  laboriously  committed  to  mem- 
ory a  quantity  of  Harrow  slang  from  The  Hill: 
he  finds  this  is  meaningless  at  Shrewsbury. 
He  cannot  understand  the  situation:  he  has  to 
unlearn  all  his  lessons  in  sophistication.  The 
whole  thing  is  admirably  done. 
167 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

The  story  strikes  a  deeper  note  towards 
the  end.  Here  we  are  given  a  very  vivid  study 
of  the  same  boy,  now  head  of  his  House,  strug- 
gling between  his  sense  of  duty  and  the  fear  of 
unpopularity.  Shall hetackle  thedisturbing ele- 
ment boldly,  invoking  if  necessary  the  assist- 
ance of  the  Housemaster,  or  let  things  slide  for 
the  sake  of  peace?  Many  a  tragedy  of  the  Pre- 
fect's Room  has  hinged  upon  that  struggle;  and 
although  Mr.  Coke's  solution  of  the  problem  is 
not  heroic,  it  is  probably  all  the  more  true  to 
life.  Altogether  a  fine  book,  but  from  its  very 
nature  a  book  for  boys  rather  than  grown- 
ups. 

Coming  to  the  type  of  school-story  at  present 
in  vogue,  we  have  The  Hill,  deservedly  rank- 
ing as  first-class.  But  The  Hill'is  essentially  a 
book  for  Harrovians;  and  the  more  likely  a 
book  is  to  appeal  to  members  of  one  particular 
school,  the  less  likely  it  is  to  appeal  to  members 
of  any  other  school.  (In  this  respect  we  may 
note  that  Tom  Brown  forms  an  exception.  But 
then  Tom  Brown  is  an  exceptional  book.)  If 
The  Hill\\-a.d  been  written  as  a  "general"  school 
story,  with  the  identity  of  Harrow  veiled,  how- 
ever thinly,  under  a  fictitious  name,  its  glamour 
and  romance,  together  with  its  enthusiasm  for 

1 68 


SCHOOL    STORIES 

all  that  is  straight  and  strong  and  of  old  stand- 
ing and  of  good  report,  would  have  made  it  a 
classic  among  school  fiction.  But  non-Harrov- 
ians— and  there  are  a  considerable  number  of 
them — decline  with  natural  insularity  to  follow 
Mr.  Vachell  to  his  topmost  heights.  They  are 
conscious  of  a  clannish,  slightly  patronising  air 
about  The  Hill,  which  is  notably  absent  in 
other  stories  which  tell  the  tale  of  a  particular 
school.  The  reader  is  treated  to  pedantic  little 
footnotes,  and  given  a  good  deal  of  information 
which  is  either  orratuitousoruninterestincr.  He 
is  made  to  understand  that  he  is  on  The  Hill 
but  not  of  it.  He  recognises  frankly  enough  the 
greatness  of  Harrow  tradition  and  the  glory  of 
Harrow  history,  but  he  rightly  reserves  his  en- 
thusiasm over  such  things  for  his  own  school; 
and  there  are  moments  when  he  feels  inclined 
to  bawl  out  to  the  author  that  he  envies  Har- 
row nothing — except  perhaps/^<?r/)/  Years  On. 

In  other  words,  The  Hill,  owing  to  the  in- 
sistent fashion  in  which  it  puts  Harrow  first 
and  general  schoolboy  nature  second,  must  be 
regarded  more  as  a  glorified  prospectus  than 
as  a  representative  novel  of  English  school 
life. 

But  The  //^'//stands  high.  It  cannot  be  hid. 
169 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

It  is  supersentimental  at  times,  but  then  so  are 
schoolboys.  And  the  characters  are  clean-cut 
and  finely  finished.  Scaife  is  a  memorable  fig- 
ure; so  is  Warde.  John  Verney,  like  most  virtu- 
ous persons,  is  a  bit  of  a  bore  at  times;  but  the 
Caterpillar,  with  his  drawling  little  epigrams, 
and  their  inevitable  tag — "Not  my  own;  my 
Governor's!" — is  a  joy  for  ever.  Lastly,  the  de- 
scription of  the  Eton  and  Harrow  Match  at 
Lord's  takes  unquestionable  rank  as  one  of  the 
few  things  in  this  world  which  will  never  be 
better  done. 

Two  other  books  maybe  mentioned  here,  as 
illustrating  the  tendency,  already  mentioned, 
of  modern  school-novelists  to  shift  the  lime- 
light from  the  boy  to  the  master.  The  first  is 
Mr.  Hugh  Walpole's  Mr.  Perrin  and  Mr. 
Traill.  A  young  man  lacking  means,  and  poss- 
essing only  a  moderate  degree,  who  feels  in- 
clined, as  many  do,  to  drift  into  schoolmaster- 
ing  as  2.pis  aller,  should  read,  mark,  learn,  and 
inwardly  digest  this  book.  It  draws  a  pitiless 
picture  of  Common  Room  life  in  a  third-rate 
public  school — the  monotony;  the  discomfort; 
the  mutual  antagonism  and  jealousy  of  a  body 
of  men  herded  together  year  after  year,  con- 
demned to  celibacy  by  want  of  means,  and  de- 

170 


SCHOOL    STORIES 

prived  ofall  prospect  of  advancement  orchange 
of  scene.  It  hammers  in  the  undeniable  truth 
that  in  the  great  majority  of  cases  a  schoolmas- 
ter's market  value  depreciates  steadily  from  the 
date  of  his  first  appointment.  Mr.  Perrin  and 
Mr.  Traill  \s  a  very  able  book,  but  should  not 
be  read  by  schoolmasters  while  recovering,  let 
us  say,  from  influenza. 

If  the  reader  desires  a  further  picture  of  the 
amenities  of  the  Common  Room,  viewed  from 
a  less  oblique  angle,  he  can  confidently  be  rec- 
ommended to  turn  to  TheLanchester  Tradition, 
by  Mr.  G.  F.  Bradby.  Tke  Lanchester  Trad- 
ition is  a  comparatively  short  story,  but  it  is  all 
pure  gold.  It  is  written  with  knowledge,  in- 
sight, and  above  all  with  an  appreciation  of  that 
broad  tolerant  humorous  outlook  on  life  which 
alone  can  lubricate  the  soul-grinding  wheels  of 
routine.  In  Mr.  Perrin  and  Mr.  Traill  v^e.  have 
a  young,  able,  and  merciless  critic  exposing 
some  of  the  weaknesses  of  the  public-school 
system.  In  The  Lanchester  Tradition  we  have 
a  seasoned  and  experienced  representative  of 
that  system  demonstrating  that  real  character 
can  always  rise  superior  to  circumstance,  and 
that  for  all  its  creaking  machinery  and  accom- 
panying friction  the  pedagogue's  existence  can 
171 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

be.  a  very  tolerable  and  at  times  a  veryuplifting 
one.  It  is  the  old  struggle  between  theory  and 
practice.  Solvitur  ambulando. 

There  are  many  other  school  stories  of  recent 
date,  of  which  no  mention  has  been  made  in 
this  survey;  but  our  excursions  seem  to  have 
covered  a  fairly  representative  field.  What  is 
the  prevailingcharacteristic  of  the  new,ascom- 
pared  with  the  old?  It  appears  to  be  a  very  in- 
sistent and  rather  discordant  note  of  realism — 
the  sort  of  realism  which  leaves  nothing  un- 
photographed.  Romance  and  sentiment  are 
swept  aside:  they  might  fog  the  negative.  Our 
rising  generation  are  not  permitted  to  see  vis- 
ions or  dream  dreams.  And  there  is  a  tendency 
— mercifully  absent  in  most  of  the  books  which 
we  have  described — to  discuss  matters  which 
are  better  not  discussed,  at  any  rate  in  a  work 
of  fiction.  There  is  a  great  vogue  in  these  intro- 
spective days  for  outspokenness  upon  intimate 
matters.  We  are  told  that  such  matter  should 
not  be  excluded  from  the  text,  because  it  is 
"true  to  life."  So  are  the  police  reports  in  the 
Sunday  newspapers;  but  we  do  not  present  files 
of  these  delectable  journals  to  our  sons  and 
daughters — let  us  not  forget  the  daughters:  the 
sons  go  to  school,  but  the  daughters  can  only  sit 

172 


SCHOOL   STORIES 

at  home  and  read  schoolboy  stories — as  Christ- 
mas presents. 

There  is  another  marked  characteristic  of 
modern  school  fiction — its  intense  topicality. 
The  slang,  the  allusions,  the  incidents — they 
are  all  dernier  cri.  But  the  more  up-to-date  a 
thing  may  be,  whether  it  be  a  popular  catch- 
phrase  or  a  whole  book,  the  more  ephemeral  is 
its  existence.  A  book  of  this  kind  reproduces 
the  spirit  of  the  moment,  often  with  surprising 
fidelity;  but  after  all  it  is  only  the  spirit  of  the 
moment.  Its  very  applicability  to  the  moment 
unfits  it  for  any  other  position.  Books,  speech- 
es, and  jokes — very  few  of  these  breathe  the 
spirit  not  only  of  the  moment  but  of  all  time. 
When  they  do,  we  call  them  Classics.  Toyn 
Brown  is  a  Classic,  and  probably  Stalky  too. 
They  are  built  of  material  which  is  imperish- 
able, because  it  is  quarried  from  the  bed-rock 
of  human  nature,  which  never  varies,  though 
architectural  fashions  come  and  go. 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 
"MY    PEOPLE" 


THE  SCHOOLGIRL'S  DREAM  -l  6  lA.t^     ^^^'Y^^^^ 


CHAP.  SEVEN   "MY  PEOPLE"  I 

UNDER  THIS  COMPREHENSIVE 
title  the  schoolboy  groups  the  whole  of  his  re- 
latives, of  both  sexes. 

"Are  your  people  coming  for  Speech  Day?" 
inquires  Master  Smith  of  Master  Brown. 

"Yes,  worse  luck!" 

"It  is  a  bore,"  agrees  Smith.  "I  wanted  you 
to  come  and  sit  with  me." 

"Sorry!"  says  Brown,  and  the  matter  ends. 
It  never  occurs  to  Brown  to  invite  Smith  to 
join  the  family  party.  Such  a  proceeding  would 
be  unheard  of.  A  schoolboy  with  his  "people" 
in  tow  neither  expects  nor  desires  the  society 
of  his  friends.  His  father  may  be  genial,  his 
mother  charming,  his  sister  pretty;  but  in  the 
jaundiced  eyes  of  their  youthful  host  they  are 
nothing  more  or  less  than  a  gang  of  lepers — to 
be  segregated  from  all  communication  with  the 
outer  world;  to  be  conveyed  from  one  point  to 
another  as  stealthily  as  possible;  and  above  all 
to  be  kept  out  of  the  way  of  masters. 

Later  in  life,  say  at  the  University, this  diffid- 
ence disappears.  A  pretty  sister  becomes  an 
asset;  a  pearl  of  price;  a  bait  for  luncheon  part- 
ies and  a  trap  for  theatre-tickets.  Even  a  father, 
provided  he  does  not  wear  a  made-up  tie  or  take 

177  M 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

off  his  hat  to  the  Dons,  is  tolerated.  But  at 
school — never!  Why? 

The  reason  is  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
give  one's  "people"  their  heads  when  on  a  visit 
to  School  without  opening  the  way  for  breach- 
es of  etiquette  and  social  outrages  of  the  most 
deplorable  kind.  Left  to  themselves,  fathers 
are  addicted  to  entering  into  conversation  with 
casual  masters — especially  masters  who  in  the 
eyes  of  a  boy  are  too  magnificent  to  be  ap- 
proached or  too  despicable  to  be  noticed. 
Mothers  have  been  known  to  make  unsolicited 
overtures  to  some  School  potentate — yea,  even 
the  Captain  of  the  Eleven — because  he  happens 
to  have  curly  hair  or  be  wearing  a  pretty  blazer. 
Sisters  arecapableofextending  what  theLower 
School  terms  "the  R.S.V.P.  eye"  to  the  mean- 
est and  most  insignificant  fag.  These  solecisms 
shame  Master  Brown  to  his  very  soul.  Conse- 
quently he  keeps  his  relatives  in  relentlessly 
close  order,  herding  them  across  the  quadrangle 
under  a  runningfire  of  admonition  and  reproof. 

"Yes,  Dad,  that's  the  Head.  Look  the  other 
way,  or  he'll  notice  you. . . .  For  goodness  sake, 
Mum,  don't  stop  and  talk  to  this  fellow:  he's 
in  the  Boat.  Who  is  that  dear  little  boy  with 
brown  eyes?  Great  Scott,  how  should  I  know 

178 


I 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

all  the  rotten  little  ticks  in  the  Lower  School? 
.  ,  .  Sis,  what  on  earth  did  you  go  smiling  and 
grinning  at  that  chap  for?  He  is  a  master.  He 
took  his  hat  off?  Well,  you  must  have  begun  it, 
that's  all!  Think  what  an  outsider  he  must  con- 
sider you! , . .  What,  Mum?  Who  are  these  two 
nice-lookmg  boys  sitting  on  that  bench?  Not  so 
loud!  They're  the  Captain  of  the  Eleven  and 
the  Secretary.  W^i/l  I  ask  them  to  tea  to  amuse 
Dolly?  Certainly,  if  you  don't  mind  my  leaving 
the  School  for  fjood  to-morrow  mornine! .... 
This  is  the  cricket-ground.  No,  you  can't  go 
and  sit  in  the  shade  under  those  trees:  it  is 
fearful  side  to  go  there.  Stay  about  here.  If  you 
see  any  people  you  know,  from  Town  or  any- 
where, you  can  talk  to  them;  but  whatever  you 
do,don't  gomakingupto  chaps.  I'llfindyoung 
Griffin  for  you  if  you  like.  He'll  be  pretty  sick; 
but  he  knows  you  in  the  holidays,  so  I  suppose 
hehasgot  to  go  through  it.  Sit  here.  Perhaps 
you  had  better  not  speak  to  anybody  while  I'm 
away,  whether  you  know  them  or  not.  Sis, 
remember  about  not  making  eyes  at  fellows. 
They  don't  like  that  sort  of  thing  from  young 
girls:  they're  different  from  your  pals  in  Hyde 
Park;  so  hold  yourself  in.  I'll  be  back  in  a 
minute." 
179 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

Then  he  departs  in  search  of  the  reluctant 
Griffin. 

The  only  member  of  the  staff  to  whom  a  boy 
permits  his  "people"  to  address  themselves  is 
his  Housemaster.  Himhe  regards  as  inevitable; 
and  consents  gloomily  to  conduct  his  tainted 
band  to  a  ceremonial  tea  in  the  Housemaster's 
drawing-room.  There  he  sits  miserably  upon 
the  edge  of  a  chair,  masticating  cake,  and  hop- 
ing against  hope  that  the  ceremony  will  end  be- 
fore his  relatives  have  said  or  done  something 
particularly  disastrous. 

He  is  conscious,  too,  of  a  sadfalling-off  in  his 
own  demeanour.  Ten  minutes  ago  he  was  a 
miniature  Grand  Turk,  patronising  hisparents 
and  ruffling  it  over  his  sister.  Nowhe  is  a  rather 
grubby  litde  hobbledehoy,  conscious  of  large 
feet  and  red  hands,  mumbling  "Yes,  sir,"  and 
"No,  sir,"  to  a  man  whom  he  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  represent  to  his  family  as  being  wax 
in  his  hands  and  a  worm  in  his  presence. 

An  observant  philosopher  once  pointed  out 
that  in  every  man  there  are  embedded  three 
men:  first,  the  man  as  he  appears  to  himself; 
second,  the  man  as  he  appears  to  others;  third, 
the  man  as  he  really  is.  This  classification  of 
points  of  view  is  particularly  applicable  to  the 

1 80 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

scholastic  world.  Listen,  for  instance,  to  Master 
Smith,  describing  to  an  admiring  circle  ofsisters 
and  young  brothers  a  scene  from  school  life  as 
it  is  lived  in  the  Junior  Remove. 

"/f  the  work  difficult?  Bless  you,  we  don't 
do  any  work:  we  just  rot  Duck-face.  We  simply 
rag  his  soul  out.  What  do  we  do  to  him?  Oh,  all 
sorts  of  things.  What  sort?  Well,  theother  day 
he  started  up  his  usual  songabout  the  necessity 
of  absolute  attention  and  concentration — great 
word  of  Duck-face's,  concentration — and  gave 
me  an  impot  for  not  keeping  my  eyes  fixed  on 
him  all  the  time  he  was  jawing.  I  explained  to 
him  that  anybody  who  attempted  such  a  feat 
would  drop  down  dead  in  five  minutes.  How 
dare  I  say  such  a  thing  to  a  master?  Well,  I 
didn't  say  it  in  so  many  words,  but  he  knew  what 
I  meant  all  right.  He  got  pretty  red.  After  that 
I  tipped  the  wink  to  the  other  chaps,  and  we  all 
stared  at  him  till  he  simply  sweated.  Oh,  we 
give  him  a  rotten  time!" 

Mr.  Duckworth's  version  of  the  incident,  in 
the  Common  Room,  ran  something  like  this. 

"What's  that,  Allnutt?  How  isyoimg  Sinith 

getting  on?  Let  me  see — Smith?  Oh,thatyouth! 

I  remember  him  now.  Well,  he  strikes  me  as 

being  not  far  removed  from  the  idiot  type,  but 

i8i 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

he  is  perfectly  harmless.  I  don't  expect  ever  to 
teach  him  anything,  of  course,  but  he  gives  no 
trouble.  He  is  quite  incapable  of  concentrating 
his  thoughts  on  anything  for  more  than  five 
minutes  without  constant  ginger  from  me.  I 
had  to  drop  rather  heavily  upon  him  this  morn- 
ing, and  the  results  were  most  satisfactory.  He 
was  attentive  for  quite  half  an  hour.  But  he's  a 
dull  customer." 

What  really  happened  was  this.  Mr.  Duck- 
worth, who  was  a  moderate  disciplinarian  and 
an  extremely  uninspiring  teacher,  had  occasion 
to  set  Master  Smith  fifty  lines  for  inattention. 
Master  Smith,  glaring  resentfully  and  mutter- 
ing muffled  imprecations — symptoms  of  dis- 
pleasure which  Mr.  Duckworth,  who  was  a  man 
of  peace  at  any  price,  studiously  ignored — re- 
mained comparatively  attentive  for  the  rest  of 
the  hour  and  ultimately  showed  up  the  lines. 

All  this  time  we  have  left  our  young  friend 
Master  Brown  sitting  upon  the  edge  of  a  chair 
in  his  Housemaster's  drawing-room,  glaring 
defiantly  at  everyone  and  wondering  what  aw- 
ful thing  his  "people"  are  saying  now. 

Occasionally  scraps  of  conversation  reach  his 
ears.  (He  is  sitting  over  by  thewindow  with  his 
sister.)  His  mother  is  doing  most  of  the  talk- 

182 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

ing.  The  heads  of  her  discourse  appear  in  the 
main  to  be  two — the  proper  texture  of  her  son's 
undergarments,  and  the  state  of  his  soul.  The 
Housemaster,  when  he  gets  a  chance,  repHes 
soothingly.  The  Matron  shall  be  instructed  to 
see  that  nothing  is  discarded  prematurely  dur- 
ing the  treacherous  early  summer:  he  himself 
will  take  steps  to  have  Reggie — the  boy  blush- 
es hotly  at  the  sound  of  his  Christian  name  on 
alien  lips — prepared  for  confirmation  with  the 
next  batch  of  candidates. 

Occasionally  his  father  joins  in. 

"I  expect  we  can  safely  leave  that  question 
to  Mr.  Allnutt's  discretion,  Mary,"  he  observes 
drily.  "After  all,  Reggie  is  not  the  only  boy  in 
the  House." 

"No,  I  am  sure  he  is  not,"  concedes  Mrs. 
Brown.  "But  I  know  you  won't  object  to  hear 
the  mother  s  point  of  view,  will  you,  Mr.  All- 
nutt?" 

"I  fancy  Mr.  Allnutt  has  heard  the  mother's 
point  of  view  once  or  twice  before,"  interpol- 
ates Mr.  Brown,  with  a  sympathetic  smile  in 
the  direction  of  the  Housemaster. 

"Now,  John,"  says  Mrs.  Brown  playfully, 
"don't  interfere!  Mr.  Allnutt  and  I  understand 
one  another  perfectly,  don't  we,  Mr.  Allnutt?" 
i8 


'3 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

She  takes  up  her  parable  again  with  renewed 
zest.  "You  see,  Mr.  Allnutt,  what  I  mean  is, 
you  are  a  bachelor.  You  have  never  had  any 
young  people  to  bring  up,  so  naturally  you  can't 
quite  appreciate,  as  I  can " 

Mr.  Allnutt,  who  has  brought  up  about  fifty 
"young  people"  per  annum  for  fifteen  years, 
smiles  wanly,  and  bows  to  the  storm.  Master 
Brown,  almost  at  the  limit  of  human  endurance, 
glances  despairingly  at  his  sister.  That  tactful 
young  person  grasps  the  situation,  and  endeav- 
ours to  divert  the  conversation. 

"What  pretty  cups  those  are  on  that  shelf," 
she  says  in  a  clear  voice  to  her  brother.  "Are 
they  Mr.  Allnutt's  prizes?" 

"Yes,  "replies  Master  Brown,  with  a  sidelong 
glance  towards  his  Housemaster.  But  that 
much-enduring  man  takes  no  notice:  his  atten- 
tion is  still  fully  occupied  by  Mrs.  Brown,  whom 
henowdarkly  suspects  of  havingasuitablebride 
for  him  concealed  somewhere  in  her  peroration. 

Master  Brown  and  his  sister  rise  to  inspect 
the  collection  of  trophies  more  closely. 

"What  a  lot  he  has  got,"  says  Miss  Brown,  in 
an  undertone  now.  "Was  he  a  great  athlete?" 

"He  thinks  he  was.  When  he  grets  in  a  bait 
over  anything  it  is  always  a  sound  plan  to  get 

184 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

him  to  talk  about  one  of  these  rotten  things.  I 
once  got  off  a  tanning  byasking  him  how  many 
times  he  had  been  Head  of  the  River.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  most  of  these  are  prizes  for  chess, 
or  tricycHng,  or  something  Hke  that." 

So  the  joyous  Hbel  proceeds.  Master  Reggie 
is  beginning  to  cheer  up  a  httle. 

"What  is  that  silver  bowl  for?"  inquires  his 
sister. 

"Ah,  it  takes  him  about  half  an  hour  to  tell 
you  about  that.  They  won  the  race  by  two  feet 
in  record  time,  and  he  was  in  a  dead  faint  for  a 
week  afterwards.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Bailey 
tertius,  whose  governor  was  up  at  Oxford  with 
the  old  Filbert" — etymologists  will  have  no 
difficulty  in  tracing  this  synonym  to  its  source 
— "says  that  he  saw  the  race,  and  that  Filbert 
caught  a  crab  and  lost  his  oar  about  five  yards 
from  the  start  and  was  a  passenger  all  the  way. 
The  men  on  the  bank  yelled  to  him  to  jump 
out,but  he  was  in  too  biga  funk  ofbeing  drown- 
ed, and  wouldn't.  Of  course  he  doesn't  know 
we  know!"   And  so  the  joyous  libel  proceeds. 

And  yet,  in  Reggie  Brown's  last  half-term 
report  we  find  the  words: 

A  conscientious,  but  somewhat  stolid  and  un- 
imaginative boy. 

185 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

II 

But  "people"  do  not  visit  the  School  solely 
for  the  purpose  of  bringing  social  disaster  upon 
their  offspring.  Their  first  visit,  at  any  rate,  is 
of  a  very  different  nature.  On  this  occasion 
they  come  in  the  capacity  of  what  Headmasters 
call  "prospective  parents" — that  is,  parents 
who  propose  to  inspect  the  School  with  a  view 
to  entering  a  boy — and  as  such  are  treated  with 
the  deference  due  to  imperfectly  hooked  fish. 

The  prospective  parent  varies  considerably. 
Sometimes  he  is  an  old  member  of  the  School, 
and  his  visit  is  a  purely  perfunctory  matter.  He 
knows  every  inch  of  the  place.  He  luncheswith 
the  Head,  has  a  talk  about  old  times,  and  men- 
tions with  proper  pride  that  yet  another  of  his 
boys  is  now  of  an  age  to  take  up  his  nomination 
for  his  father's  old  House. 

Then  comes  another  type — the  youthful  par- 
ent. Usually  he  brings  his  wife  with  him.  He 
is  barely  forty,  and  has  not  been  near  a  school 
since  he  left  his  own  twenty  years  ago.  His 
wife  is  pretty,  and  not  thirty-five.  Both  feel 
horribly  juvenile  in  the  presence  of  the  Head. 
They  listen  deferentially  to  the  great  man's 

i86 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

pontifical  observations  upon  the  requirements 
of  modern  education,  and  answer  his  queries  as 
to  their  firstborn's  age  and  attainments  with 
tremblinor  exactitude. 

"I  think  we  shall  be  able  to  lick  him  into 
shape,"  concludes  the  Head,  with  gracious  joc- 
ularity. It  is  mere  child's  play  to  him,  handling 
parents  of  this  type. 

Then  the  male  bird  plucks  up  courage,  and 
timidly  asks  a  leading  question.  The  Head 
smiles. 

"Ah!"  he  remarks.  "Now  you  are  laying  an 
invidious  task  upon  me.  Who  am  I,  to  discrim- 
inate between  my  colleagues'  Houses?" 

The  young  parents  apologise  precipitately, 
but  the  Head  says  there  is  no  need.  I  n  fact,  he 
goes  so  far  as  to  recommend  a  House — in  strict 
confidence. 

"Between  ourselves,"  he  says,  "I  consider 
ihat^Ae  man  here  at  the  present  moment  is  Mr. 
Rotterson.  Send  your  boy  to  him.  I  de/zevehe. 
has  a  vacancy  for  next  term,  but  you  had  better 
see  him  at  once.  I  will  give  you  a  note  for  him 
now.  There  you  are!  Good  morning!" 

Off  hurry  the  anxiouspair.  But  the  telephone 
outstrips  them. 

"Is  that  you,  Rotterson?"  says  the  Head.  "I 
187 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

have  just  despatched  a  brace  of  parents  to  you. 
Impress  them!  There  are  prospects  of  more 
to-morrow,  so  with  any  luck  we  ought  to  be 
able  to  pull  up  your  numbers  to  a  decent  level 
after  all." 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  says  a  meek  voice 
at  the  other  end. 

Then  there  is  the  bluff,  hearty  parent — the 
man  who  knows  exactly  what  he  wants,  and 
does  not  hesitate  to  say  so. 

"I  don'twant  myson  taught  any  of  your  new- 
fangled nonsense,"  he  explains  breezily.  "Just 
a  good  sound  education,  without  frills!  The 
boy  will  have  to  earn  his  own  living  afterwards, 
and  I  want  you  to  teach  him  something  which 
will  enable  him  to  do  so.  Don't  go  filling  him 
up  with  Latin  and  Greek:  give  him  something 
which  will  be  useful  in  an  office.  I  know  you 
pedagogues  stick  obstinately  to  what  you  call 
a  good  general  grounding;  but,  if  I  may  say 
so,  you  ought  to  specialise  a  bit  more.  You're 
too  shy  of  specialisation,  you  know.  But  /say: 
Find  out  what  each  boy  in  your  School  requires 
for  his  future  career,  and  teach  him  thai/" 

A  Headmaster  once  replied  to  a  parent  of 
this  description: 

i88 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

"Unfortunately,  sir,  the  fees  of  this  school 
and  the  numbers  of  its  Staff  are  calculated  upon 
a  table  d'hote  basis.  If  you  want  to  have  your 
son  educated  h  la  carte,  you  must  get  a  private 
tutor  for  him." 

Then  there  is  the  Utterly  Impossible  parent. 
He  is  utterly  impossible  for  one  of  two  reasons 
— either  because  he  is  a  born  faddist,  or  because 
he  has  relieved  Providence  of  a  grave  respons- 
ibility by  labelling  himself  "A  Self- Made  Man, 
and  Proud  of  It!" 

The  faddist  is  the  sort  of  person  who  absorbs 
Blue  Books  without  digesting  them,  and  sits 
upon  every  available  Board  without  growing 
any  wiser,  and  cherishes  theories  of  his  own 
about  non-competitive  examinations,  and  cell- 
ular underclothing,  and  the  use  of  graphs,  and, 
generally  speaking,  about  every  subject  on 
which  there  is  no  particular  reason  why  the  lay- 
man should  hold  any  opinions  at  all.  Such  a 
creature  harries  the  scholastic  profession  into 
premature  senility.  Him  the  Head  always 
handles  in  the  same  fashion.  He  delivers  him 
over  at  the  first  opportunity  to  a  Housemaster, 
and  the  Housemaster  promptly  takes  him  out 
on  to  the  cricket-field  and,  having  introduced 
189 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

him  to  the  greatest  bore  upon  the  Staff,  leaves 
the  pair  together  to  suffer  the  fate  of  the  Kil- 
kenny cats. 

The  other  sort  of  Utterly  Impossible  is  not 
so  easily  scotched.  The  ordinary  snubs  of  polite 
society  are  not  for  him.  He  is  a  plain  man,  he 
mentions,  and  likes  to  put  things  on  a  business 
footing.  Putting  things  on  a  business  footing 
seems  to  necessitate — no  one  knows  why — a 
recital  of  the  plain  man's  early  struggles,  to- 
gethe  r  with  a  reszim<fofhis  present  bank-balance 
and  directorships.  Not  infrequently  he  brings 
his  son  with  him,  and  having  deposited  that 
shrinking  youth  on  a  chair  under  the  eyes  both 
of  the  Head  and  himself,  proceeds  to  run  over 
his  points  with  enormous  gusto  and  unparental 
impartiality. 

"There  he  is!"  he  bellows.  "Now  you've^^*^ 
him!  Ram  it  intohim!  Learn  him  to  be  ascholar, 
and  I'll  pay  anybill  you  like  to  send  in.  I've  got 
the  dibs.  He's  not  a  bad  lad,  as  lads  go,  but  he 
wantshis  jacket  dustednowandthen.Myfather 
dusted  mine  regular  every  Saturday  night  for 
fifteen  year,  and  it  made  me  the  man  I  am.  I'm 
worth " 

A  condensed  Budget  follows.  Then  the 
harangue  is  resumed. 

190 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

"So  don't  spare  the  rod — that's  what  I  say. 
Learn  himallthat  a  scholarouo^ht  tobelearned. 
If  he  wants  books,getthem,and  put  them  down 
to  me.  I  can  pay  for  them.  And  at  the  end  of 
the  year.if  he  gets  plucked  in  hisexaminations, 
you  send  him  home  to  me,  and  I'll  bile  him!" 

The  plain  man  breaks  off,  and  glares  with 
ferocious  affection  upon  his  offspring.  All  this 
while  the  shrewd  Head  has  been  observing  the 
boy's  demeanour;  and  if  he  decides  that  the  ex- 
uberance of  his  papa  has  not  been  inherited  to 
an  ineradicable  extent,  he  accepts  the  cowering 
youth  and  does  his  best  for  him.  As  a  rule  he  is 
justified  in  his  judgment. 

Lastly  comes  a  novel  and  quite  inexplicable 
variant  of  the  species.  It  owes  its  existence  en- 
tirely to  journalistic  enterprise. 

Little  Tommy  Snooks,  we  will  say,  arrives 
home  one  afternoon  in  a  taxi  in  the  middle  of 
term,  and  announces  briefly  but  apprehensive- 
ly to  his  parents  that  he  has  been  "sacked." 
He  is  accompanied  or  preceded  bya  letterfrom 
his  Headmaster,  expressing  genuine  sorrow 
for  the  occurrence,  and  adding  that  though  it 
has  been  found  necessary  for  the  sake  of  dis- 
cipline to  remove  Master  Thomas  from  the 
School,  his  offence  has  not  been  such  as  to  in- 
191 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

volve  any  moral  stigma.  Little  Tommy's  par- 
ents, justly  incensed  that  their  offspring  should 
have  been  expelled  from  school  without  incurr- 
ing any  moral  stigma,  write  demanding  instant 
reparation.  The  Headmaster,  in  his  reply, 
states  that  Thomas  has  been  expelled  because 
he  has  broken  a  certain  rule,  the  penalty  for 
breaking  which  happens  to  be — and  is  known 
to  be — expulsion.  Voil^  tout.  In  other  words, 
he  has  been  expelled,  not  for  smoking  or  drink- 
ing or  breaking  bounds  (or  whatever  he  may 
happen  to  have  done),  but  for  deliberately  and 
wantonly  flying  in  the  face  of  the  Law  which 
prohibits  these  misdemeanours.  Either  Tom- 
my must  go,  or  the  Law  be  rendered  futile  and 
ridiculous. 

This  paltry  and  frivolous  attempt  to  evade 
the  real  point  at  issue — which  appears  to  be 
that  many  people,  including  Tommy's  parents 
and  the  Headmaster  himself,  smoke,  drink, 
and  go  out  after  dark  and  are  none  the  worse 
— is  treated  with  the  severity  which  it  deserves. 
A  letter  is  despatched,  consigning  the  Head- 
master to  scholastic  perdition.  The  Headmas- 
ter briefly  acknowledges  receipt,  and  suggests 
that  the  correspondence  should  now  cease. 

So  far  the  campaign  has  followed  well-de- 

192 


RANK  AND  FILE 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

fined  and  perfectly  natural  lines,  for  a  parent  is 
seldom  disposed  to  take  his  boy's  expulsion 
"lying  down."  But  at  this  point  the  new-style 
parent  breaks  right  away  from  tradition — 
kicks  over  the  traces,  in  fact.  Despatching  that 
slightly  dazed  but  on  the  whole  deeply  gratified 
infant  martyr,  Master  Tommy,  to  salve  out- 
raged nature  at  an  adjacent  Picture  Palace,  the 
parent  sits  down  at  his  (or  her)  desk  and  un- 
masks the  whole  dastardly  conspiracy  to  a  half- 
penny newspaper  of  wide  circulation.  "I  do 
this,"  he  explains,  "not  from  any  feeling  of  an- 
imosity towards  the  Headmaster  of  the  School, 
but  in  order  to  clear  my  son's  good  name  and 
fair  fame  in  the  eyes  of  the  world."  This  is  in- 
teresting and  valuable  news  to  the  world,  which 
has  not  previously  heard  of  Tommy  Snooks. 
The  astute  editor  of  the  halfpenny  paper,  with 
a  paternal  smile  upon  his  features  and  his 
tongue  in  his  cheek,  publishes  the  letter  in  a 
conspicuous  position — if  things  in  the  football 
and  political  world  happen  to  be  particularly 
dull,  he  sometimes  finds  room  for  Tommy's 
photograph  too — and  invites  general  corres- 
pondence on  the  subject. 

Few  parents  can  resist  such  an  opportunity; 
and  for  several  weeks  the  editor  is  supplied, 
193  N 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 
free  gratis,  with  a  column  of  diversified  but 
eminently  saleable  matter.  The  beauty  of  a 
controversy  of  this  kind  is  that  you  can  debate 
upon  almost  any  subject  without  being  pulled 
up  for  irrelevance.  Parents  take  full  advantage 
of  this  licence.  Some  contribute  interesting 
legends  of  their  children's  infancy.  Others 
plunge  into  a  debate  upon  punishment  in  gen- 
eral, and  the  old  battle  of  cane,  birch,  slipper, 
imposition,  detention,  and  moral  suasion  is 
fought  over  again.  This  leads  to  a  discussion 
as  to  whether  public  schools  shall  or  shall  not 
be  abolished — by  whom,  is  not  stated.  Pres- 
ently the  national  reserve  of  retired  colonels  is 
mobilised,  and  fiery  old  gentlemen  write  from 
Cheltenham  to  say  that  in  their  young  days 
boys  were  boys  and  not  molly-coddles.  Old 
friends  like  Materfamilias,  Pro  Bo7io  Publico, 
Quis  Custodiet  Custodes  rush  into  the  fray  with 
joyous  whoops.  There  is  quite  a  riot  of  pseud- 
onyms: the  only  person  who  gives  his  proper 
name  (and  address)  is  the  headmaster  of  a 
small  preparatory  school,  who  contributes  a 
copy  of  his  prospectus,  skilfully  disguised  as 
a  treatise  on  "How  to  Preserve  Home  Influ- 
ences at  School." 

But  the  boom  is  short-lived.  Presently  a  cri- 

194 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

sis  arises  in  some  other  department  of  our  na- 
tional life.  Somethin<^  cataclysmal  happens  to 
the  House  of  Commons,  or  the  Hippodrome, 
or  Tottenham  Hotspur.  Public  attention  is  di- 
verted; the  correspondence  is  closed  with  cruel 
abruptness;  and  little  Tommy  Snooks  is  sum- 
moned from  the  Picture  Palace,  and  sent  to  an- 
other school  or  provided  with  a  private  tutor. 
Still,  his  orood  name  and  fair  fame  are  now  vin- 
dicated  in  the  eyes  of  the  world. 

But  it  is  not  altogether  surprising  that  the 
great  Temple  should  once  have  observed: 

"Boys  are  always  reasonable;  masters  some- 
times; parents  never!" 


in 

Correspondence  between  school  and  home 
is  conducted  upon  certain  well-defined  lines.  A 
boy  writes  home  every  Sunday:  his  family  may 
write  to  him  when  they  please  and  as  often  as 
they  please.  But — they  must  never  send  post- 
cards. 

Postcards  in  public  schools  are  common  pro- 
perty. Many  a  new  boy's  promising  young  life 
has  been  overclouded  at  the  very  outset  by  the 

195 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

arrival  of  some  such  maternal  indiscretion  as 
this: 

Dearest  Ai'tie, — I  am  sending  you  some  nice 
new  vests  for  the  colder  months.  Mind  you  put 
them  on,  but  ask  the  Matron  to  air  them  first. 
The  girls  send  their  love^  and  Baby  sends  you  a 
kiss. —  Your  affec.  Mother. 

"Dearest  Artie"  usually  comes  into  possess- 
ion of  this  missive  after  it  has  been  passed  from 
hand  to  hand,  with  many  joyous  comments,  the 
whole  length  of  the  Lower  School  breakfast- 
table.  He  may  not  hear  the  last  of  the  vests  and 
Baby  for  months. 

As  for  writing  home,  a  certain  elasticity  of 
method  is  essential.  In  addressing  one's  father, 
it  is  advisable  to  confine  oneself  chiefly  to  the 
topic  of  one's  studies.  Money  should  not  be  ask- 
ed for,  but  references  to  the  Classics  may  be 
introduced  with  advantage,  and  perhaps  a  fair 
copy  of  one's  last  Latin  prose  enclosed.  The 
father  will  not  be  able  to  understand  or  even 
read  it;  but  this  will  not  prevent  him  from,  im- 
agining that  he  could  have  done  so  thirty  years 
ago;  and  his  heart  will  glow  with  the  reminiscent 
enthusiasm  of  the  retired  scholar. 

Mothers  may  be  addressed  with  more  free- 

196 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

dom.  Small  financial  worries  may  be  commun- 
icated, and  it  is  a  good  plan  to  dwell  resignedly 
but  steadily  upon  the  insufficiency  of  the  food 
supplied  by  the  School  authorities.  Health  top- 
ics may  be  discussed,  especially  in  so  far  as  they 
touch  upon  the  question  of  extra  diet. 

Sisters  appreciate  School  gossip  and  small 
talk  of  any  kind. 

Young  brothers  may  be  impressed  with  dare- 
devil tales  of  masters  put  to  rout  and  prefects 
"ragged"  to  death. 

The  appended  dossier  furnishes  a  fairly  com- 
prehensive specimen  of  the  art.  It  is  entitled: 

THE   BIRTHDAY 

Corresponde?ice  addressed  to  Master  E.  Bumpkigh, 
Mr.  Killkk's  House,  Grandwich  School 

No.   I 

Messrs.  Bumpleigh  &  Sitwkll,  Ltd., 
220b  cornhill, 
Telegrams:  "BuMPSIT,  London." 

November  6,  19 — . 

My  dear  Egbert, — Your  mother  informs 
me  that  to-morrow,  the  7th  inst.,  is  your  fif- 
teenth birthday.  I  therefore  take  this  opport- 
unity of  combining  my  customary  greetings 
with  a  few  observations  on  your  half-term  re- 
197 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

port,  which  has  just  reached  me.  It  is  a  most 
deplorable  document.  With  the  exception  of 
your  health  (which  is  described  as  "excellent"), 
and  your  violin-playing  (which  I  note  is  "most 
energetic"),  I  can  find  no  cause  for  congratul- 
ation or  even  satisfaction  in  your  record  for  the 
past  half-term.  Indeed,  were  it  not  for  the  ex- 
istence of  the  deep-seated  conspiracy  (of  which 
you  have  so  frequently  and  so  earnestly  warned 
me)  among  the  masters  at  your  school,  to  de- 
prive you  of  yourjust  marks  and  so  preventyou 
from  taking  your  rightful  place  at  the  head  of 
the  form,  I  should  almost  suspect  you  of  idling. 
I  enclose  ten  shillings  as  a  birthday  gift.  If 
you  could  contrive  during  the  next  half-term  to 
overcome  the  unfortunate  prejudice  with  which 
the  Grandwich  staff  appears  to  be  inspired 
against  you,  I  might  see  my  way  to  doing  some- 
thing rather  more  handsome  at  Christmas. — 
Your  affectionate  father, 

John  Henry  Bumpleigh. 

{Reply. 

November  7. 

My  dear  Father, — Thanks  awfully  for  the 
ten  bob.  Yes,  it  is  most  deplorable  as  you  say 
about  my  report.  I  feel  it  very  much.  It  is  a  rum 
thing  that  I  should  have  come  out  bottom,  for  I 

198 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

have  been  working  fearfully  hard  lately.  I  ex- 
pect a  mistake  has  been  made  in  adding  up  the 
marks.  You  see,  they  are  all  sent  in  to  the  form- 
master  at  half-term,  and  he,  being  a  classical 
man,  naturally  can't  do  mathematics  a  bit,  so  he 
adds  up  the  marks  all  anyhow,  and  practically 
anybody  comes  out  top.  It  is  very  disharten- 
ing.  I  think  it  would  be  better  if  I  went  on  the 
Modern  Side  next  term.  The  masters  there  are 
just  as  ignerant  and  unfair  as  on  the  classical, 
but  notbeing  classical  men  they  do  know  some- 
thing about  adding  up  marks.  So  if  I  went  I 
might  get  justice  done  me.  I  must  now  stop, 
as  I  have  several  hours  more  prep,  to  do,  and 
I  want  to  go  and  ask  Mr.  Killick  for  leave  to 
work  on  after  bed-time. — Your  affec.  son, 

E.  BUMPLEIGH.) 

No.   II 

The  Limes,  Wallow-in-the-Weald, 
Surrey,  Monday. 

My  dearest  Boy, — Very  many  happy  re- 
turns of  your  birthday.  The  others  [Geiieal- 
oHcal  Tree  omitted  here)  .  .  .  send  their  best 

love. 

I  fear  your  father  is  not  quite  pleased  with 
your  half-term  report.  It  seems  a  pity  you  can- 
199 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

not  get  higher  up  in  your  form,  but  I  am  sure 
you  try,  my  boy.  I  don't  think  Father  makes 
quite  enough  allowance  for  your  health.  With 
your  weak  digestion,  long  hours  of  sedentary 
work  must  be  very  trying  at  times.  Ask  the 
matron  .  .  .  {one page  omitted').  I  enclose  ten 
shillings,  and  will  send  you  the  almond  cake 
and  potted  lobster  you  ask  for. — Your  affect- 
ionate mother,  Martha  Bumpleigh. 

{Reply. 

No7iet7ther  7. 

Dear  Mum, — Thanks  ever  so  much  for  the 
ten  bob,  also  the  lobster  and  cake,  which  are 
Ai.  Yes,  the  pater  wrote  to  me  about  my  re- 
port— rather  a  harsh  letter,  I  thought.  Still,  we 
must  make  allowances  for  him.  When  he  was 
young  education  was  a  very  simple  matter. 
Now  it  is  the  limit.  My  digestion  is  all  right, 
thanks,  but  my  head  aches  terribly  towards  the 
end  of  along  day  of  seven  or  eight  hours' work. 
Don't  mention  this  to  the  pater,  as  it  might 
worry  him.  I  shall  work  on  to  the  end,  but  if  the 
strain  gets  too  much  it  might  be  a  sound  plan 
for  me  to  go  on  the  Modern  Side  next  term. 
You  might  mention  this  cassualy  to  the  pater. 
I  must  stop  now,  as  the  prayer-bell  is  ringing. — 
Your  affec.  son,  E.  Bumpleigh.) 

200 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

No.  Ill 

The  Limes,  Wallow-in-the-\Veald, 
Surrey,  Aujourdhui. 

Dear  Eggie, — Many  happy  returns.  I  have 

spent  all  my  dress  allowance,  so  I  can't  domuch 

in  the  way  of  a  present,  I'm  afraid;  but  I  send  a 

P.O.  for  2S.  6d.  You  got  a  pretty  bad  half-term 

report,  my  dear.   Breakfast  that  morning  was 

a  cheery  meal.   I  got  hold  of  it  afterwards  and 

read  it,  and  certainly  you  seem  to  have  been 

getting  into  hot  water  all  round.   By  the  way,  I 

see  you  have  got  some  new  masters  at  Grand- 

wich,  judging  by  the  initials  on  your  report.   I 

know  "V.  K."and"0.  P.  H.":  theyare  Killick 

and  Higginson,  aren't  they?     But  who  are 

"A.C.N."and"M.P.G.".?— Youraffec.sister, 

Barbara. 

{Reply. 

November,  7. 

Dear  Bars, — Thanks  ever  so  much  for  the 
2S.  6d.  It  is  most  welcome,  as  the  pater  only 
sent  ten  bob,  being  shirty  about  my  report;  and 
the  mater  another.  Still,  I  haven't  heard  from 
Aunt  Deborah  yet:  she  usually  comes  down 
hansom  on  my  birthday.  The  new  masters  you 
mean  are  A.  C.  Newton  and  M.  P.  Gainford.  I 
201 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

don'tthinkeitherof  them  would  take  very  kind- 
ly to  you.  Newton  is  an  International,  so  he 
won't  have  much  use  forgirls.Gainford  israther 
a  snipe,  and  has  been  married  for  years  and 
years.  But  I'll  tell  you  if  any  more  new  ones 
come.  I  am  making  a  last  effort  to  get  on  to  the 
Mods,  next  term — about  fed  up  with  Higgle. — 
Your  affec.  brother,  E.  Bumpleigh.) 

No.   IV 

The  School  House, 
Oakshott  School,  Bucks,  Monday. 

Dear  Eggster, — Well,  old  sport,  how  goes 

it?  J  ust  remembered  it  is  your  birthday,  so  send 

you  (^d.  in  stamps — all  I  have  but  2d.   How  is 

your  mangy  school?  Wait  till  our  XV  plays  you 

on  the  1 8th!  What  ho! — Your  affec.  brother, 

J.  Bumpleigh. 

Just  had  a  letter  from  the  pater  about  my 
half-term  report.  He  seems  in  a  fairly  rotten 
state. 

{Reply. 

November  7. 

Dear  Moppy, — Thanks  awfully  for  the  9^. 
I  am  about  broke,  owing  to  my  half-term  report 
coinsiding  with  my  birthday.  Putrid  luck,  I  call 

202 


"MY    PEOPLE" 

it.  Still,  Aunt  Deborah  hasn't  weighed  in  yet. 
All  rig-ht,  send  aloncr  your  bandy-legged  XV, 
and  we  will  return  them  to  you  knock-kneed.  I 
must  stop  now,  as  we  are  going  to  rag  a  man's 
study  for  wearing  a  dickey. — Your  affec.  bro- 
ther, E.  BUMPLEIGH.) 

No.  V 

The  L.-^burnums,  Surbiton, 
Monday,  i\'ov.  6. 

My  DEAR  Nephew, — Another  year  has  gone 
by,  and  once  more  I  am  reminded  that  my  little 
godson  is  growing  up  to  man's  estate.  Your  fif- 
teenth birthday!  And  I  remember  when  you 
were  only — {^Hci'e  Master  Egbert  skips  tlwee 
sheets  and  co^nes  to  the  last  page  of  the  letter^ 
. .  I  am  sending  you  a  birthday  present — some- 
thing of  greater  value  than  usual.  It  is  a  hand- 
some and  costly  edition  of  Forty  Years  of 
Missionary  Eiideavoiir  in  Eastern  Polynesia, 
recently  published.  The  author  has  actually 
signed  his  name  upon  the  fly-leaf  for  you. Think 
of  that!  The  illustrations  are  by  an  Associate  of 
the  Royal  Academy.  1  hope  you  are  well,  and 
pursuing  your  studies  diligently. — Your  affec- 
tionate aunt,  Deborah  Sitwell. 
203 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

(^Reply. 

November  7. 

Dear  Aunt  Deborah, — Thank  you  very 
much  for  so  kindly  remembering  my  birthday. 
The  book  has  just  arrived,  and  I  shall  always 
look  upon  it  as  one  of  my  most  valued  possess- 
ions. I  will  read  it  constantly — whenever  I  have 
time,  in  fact;  but  really  after  being  in  school 
hard  at  work  for  ten  or  twelve  hours  a  day,  one 
is  more  inclined  for  bed  than  books,  even  one 
on  such  an  absorbingsubject  as  this.  I  am  much 
interested  in  Missionary  Endeavours,  and  help 
them  in  every  way  I  can.  We  are  having  a  ser- 
mon on  the  subject  next  Sunday.  There  is  to 
be  a  collection,  and  I  intend  to  make  a  special 
effort. — Your  affec.  nephew, 

E.  BUMPLEIGH.) 

•  •  •  •  •  • 

Extract  from  the  Catalogue  of  the  Killick- 
ite  House  Library,  Grandwich  School: 

'■'Forty  Years  of  Missionary  Endeavour  in 
Eastern  Polynesia. _  Presented  by  E.  Bump- 
leigh,  Nov.  8." 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 
THE  FATHER  OF  THE  MAN 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

THE  FATHER  OF  THE  MAN 

AMONG  THE  HIGHER  ENGLISH 
castes  it  is  not  good  form  to  appear  deeply  in- 
terested inanything,  or  to  hold  any  serious  views 
about  anything,  or  to  possessanyspecial  know- 
ledge about  anything.  In  fact,  the  more  you 
know  the  less  you  say,  and  the  more  passionate- 
ly you  are  interested  in  a  matter,  the  less  you 
"enthuse"  about  it.  That  is  the  Public  School 
Attitude  in  a  nutshell.  It  is  a  pose  which  entire- 
ly misleads  foreigners  and  causes  them  to  re- 
gard the  English  as  an  incredibly  stupid  and 
indifferent  nation. 

An  American  gentleman,  we  will  say,  with 
all  an  American's  insatiable  desire  to  "see  the 
wheels  go  round"  and  get  to  the  root  of  the 
matter,  finds  himself  sitting  beside  a  pleasant 
English  stranger  at  a  public  dinner.  They  will 
converse,  possibly  about  sport,  or  politics,  or 
wireless  telegraphy.  The  pleasant  Englishman 
may  be  one  of  the  best  game  shots  in  the  coun- 
try, or  a  Privy  Councillor,  or  a  scientist  of  Eur- 
opean reputation,  but  the  chances  are  that  the 
American  will  never  discover  from  the  conver- 
sation that  he  is  anything  more  than  a  rather 
superficial  or  diffident  amateur.  Again,  suppos- 
207 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

ing  the  identity  of  the  stranger  is  known:  the 
American  will  endeavour  to  draw  him  out.  But 
the  expert  will  decline  to  enter  deeply  into  his 
own  subject,  for  that  would  be  talking  "shop"; 
and  under  no  circumstances  will  he  consent  to 
discuss  his  own  achievements  therein,  for  that 
would  be  "side." 

Shop  and  Side — let  us  never  lose  sight  of 
them.  An  Englishman  dislikes  brains  almost 
as  much  as  he  worships  force  of  character.  If 
you  call  him  "clever"  he  will  regard  you  with 
resentment  and  suspicion.  To  his  mind  clever- 
ness is  associated  with  moral  suppleness  and 
sharp  practice.  In  politics  he  may  describe  the 
leader  of  the  other  side  as  "clever";  but  not  his 
own  leader.  He  is  "able."  But  the  things  that 
he  fears  most  are  "shop"  and  "side."  He  is  so 
frightened  of  being  thought  to  take  a  pleasure 
in  his  work — he  likes  it  to  be  understood  that 
he  only  does  it  because  he  has  to — and  so  terri- 
fied of  beingconsidered  egotistical, that  he  pre- 
fers upon  the  whole  to  be  regarded  as  lazy  or 
dunderheaded.  In  most  cases  the  brains  are 
there,  and  the  cleverness  is  there,  and  above  all 
the  passion  for  and  pride  in  his  work  are  there; 
buthepreferstokeepthesethingstohimselfand 
present  a  careless  or  flippant  front  to  the  world. 

208 


^frV^A'/v^- 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD 


THE    FATHER    OF   THE    MAN 

From  what  does  this  national  self-conscious- 
ness spring?  It  has  its  roots,  as  already  indic- 
ated, in  the  English  public  school  system. 

Consider.  The  public  school  boy,  like  all 
primitive  types,  invents  his  own  gods  and  wor- 
ships them  without  assistance.  Now  the  primit- 
ive mind  recognises  two  kindsof  god — lovable 
gods  and  gods  which  must  be  squared.  Class 
A  are  worshipped  from  sheer  admiration  and 
reverence,  because  they  are  good  and  "able" 
gods,  capable  of  godlike  achievements.  To 
Class  B,  however, homage  isrenderedasa  pure 
measure  of  precaution,  lest,  being  enormously 
powerful  and  remarkably  uncertain  in  temper, 
they  should  turn  and  rend  their  votaries.  In- 
deed, in  their  anxiety  to  avoid  the  unfavourable 
notice  of  these  deities,  the  worshippers  do  not 
hesitate  to  sacrifice  one  another.  So  it  is  with 
the  schoolboy.  Class  A  consists  of  the  gods  he 
admires,  Class  B  of  the  gods  he  is  afraid  of. 

First,  Class  A. 

What  a  boy  admires  most  of  all  is  ability — 
ability  to  do  things,  naturally  and  spontaneous- 
ly. He  worships  bodily  strength,  bodilygrace, 
swiftness  of  foot,  straightness  of  eye,  dashing 
courage,  and  ability  to  handle  a  bat  or  gun,  or 
control  the  movements  of  a  ball,  with  dexterity 
209  O 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 
and — ease.  Great  emphasis  must  be  placed  on 
the  ease.  Owing  to  a  curious  kink  in  theschool- 
boy  mind,  these  quaHties  depreciate  at  least 
fifty  per  cent,  if  they  are  not  na^ura/ quaMties — 
that  is,  if  they  have  been  acquired  by  laborious 
practice  or  infinite  pains.  The  water-funk  who 
ultimately  schools  himself  into  a  brilliant  high- 
diver,  or  the  overgrown  crock  who  trains  him- 
self, by  taking  thought,  into  an  effective  athlete, 
is  a  person  of  no  standing.  At  school  sports  you 
often  hear  such  a  conversation  as  this :  ^ 

"Good  time  for  the  mile,  wasn't  it?" 

"Yes;  but  look  at  the  way  he  has  been  sweat- 
ing up  for  it.  He's  been  in  training  for  weeks. 
Did  you  see  Jinks  in  the  high  jump,  though? 
He  cleared  five  foot  four,  and  never  turned  out 
to  practice  once.  That's  pretty  hot  stuff  if  you 
like!" 

Or: 

"Pretty  useful,  old  Dobbin  taking  six  wick- 
ets!" 

"Oh,  that  rotter!  Last  year  he  could  hardly 
get  the  ball  within  a  yard  of  the  crease.  I  hear 
he  has  been  spending  hours  and  hours  in  the 
holidays  bowling  by  himself  at  a  single  stump. 
He's  no  earthly  good,  really." 

It  is  the  way  of  the  world.  The  tortoise  is  a 

2IO 


THE    FATHER    OF   THE    MAN 

dreadfully  unpopular  winner.  To  an  English- 
man, a  real  hero  is  a  man  who  wins  a  champion- 
ship in  the  morning,  despite  the  fact  that  he  was 
dead  drunk  the  night  before. 

This  contempt  for  the  plodder  extends  also 
to  the  scholastic  sphere.  A  boy  has  no  great 
love  or  admiration  for  learning  in  itself,  but  he 
appreciates  brilliance  in  scholarship — as  op- 
posed to  hard  work.  I  f  you  come  out  top  of  your 
form,  or  gain  an  entrance  scholarship  at  the 
University,  your  friends  will  applaud  you  vig- 
orously, but  only  if  they  are  perfectly  certain 
that  you  have  done  no  work  whatever.  If  you 
are  suspected  of  midnight  oil  or  systematic  lab- 
our, the  virtue  is  gone  out  of  your  perform- 
ance. You  are  merely  a  "swot."  The  general 
attitude  appears  to  be  that  unless  you  can  take 
— orappear  to  take — an  obstacle  in  your  stride, 
that  obstacle  is  not  worth  surmounting.  This 
leads  to  a  good  deal  of  hypocrisy  and  make- 
believe.  For  instance: 

"Pretty  good,  Sparkleigh  getting  a  Schol, 
wasn't  it.-*"  remark  the  rank  and  file  to  one  an- 
other. "He  never  did  a  stroke  of  work  for  it, 
and  when  he  went  up  for  his  exam,  he  went  on 
the  bust  the  night  before.  Jolly  good  score  off 
the  tlead:  he  said  he  wouldn't  get  one!  . .  . 

211 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

Grubbe?  Oh  yes,  he  got  one  all  right.  I  should 
just  think  so!  The  old  sap!  We'd  have  rooted 
him  if  he  hadn't!" 

But  let  us  be  quite  frank  about  Sparkleigh. 
He  has  won  his  Scholarship,  and  has  done  it — 
in  the  eyes  of  the  School — with  one  hand  tied 
behind  him.  But  Scholarships  are  not  won  in 
this  way,  and  no  one  is  better  aware  of  the  fact 
than  Sparkleigh.  His  task,  to  tell  the  truth,  has 
been  far  more  difficult  than  that  of  the  unheroic 
Grubbe.  Grubbe  was  content  to  accept  the  stig- 
ma of  "swot"  because  it  carried  with  it  permis- 
sion to  work  as  hard  and  as  openly — one  had 
almost  said  as  flagrantly — as  he  pleased.  But 
Sparkleigh,  who  had  to  maintain  the  attitude 
of  a  man  of  the  world  and  a  scholastic  Gallic 
and  yet  work  just  as  hard  as  Grubbe,  was  sore- 
ly put  to  it  at  times.  He  must  work,  and  work 
desperately  hard,  yet  never  be  seen  working. 
None  of  the  friends  who  slapped  him  on  the 
back  when  the  news  of  his  success  arrived  knew 
of  the  desperate  resorts  to  which  the  boy  had 
had  recourse  in  order  to  obtain  the  time  and 
privacy  necessary  for  his  purpose.  On  Sunday 
afternoons  he  would  disappear  upon  a  country 
walk,  ostentatiously  exhibiting  a  cigarette  case 
and  giving  his  friends  to  understand  that  his 

212 


THE    FATHER    OF    THE    MAN 

walk  was  the  statutory  three-mile  quaHfication 
of  a  bona-fide  traveller.  In  reality  he  sat  behind 
a  hedofe  in  an  east  wind  and  contended  with 
Thucydides. 

And  there  was  his  demeanour  in  school.  On 
Thursdays,  for  instance,  the  Sixth  came  in  from 
four  till  six  and  composed  Latin  Verses.  On 
these  occasions  the  Head  seldom  appeared,  the 
task  ofpresiding  over  the  drowsy  assembly  fall- 
ing to  a  scholarly  but  timid  young  man  who  was 
mortally  afraid  of  the  magnates  who  sat  at  the 
top  bench.  Sparkleigh  would  take  down  the  ap- 
pointed passage  as  it  was  dictated  and  read  it 
through  carelessly.  In  reality  he  was  commit- 
ting it  to  memory.  Then: 

"Wake  me  at  a  quarter  to  six,"  he  would  say 
to  his  neighbour, yawning.  Andlayinghis  head 
upon  his  arms,  he  would  rest  motionless  until 
aroused  at  the  appointed  moment. 

But  he  was  not  asleep.  For  an  hour  and  three- 
quarters  that  busy  fertile  brain  would  be  pulling 
and  twistingthe  English  verse  intoLatinshape, 
converting  it  into  polished  Elegiacs  or  rolling 
hexameters.  Then,  sleepily  raising  his  head, 
and  casting  a  last  contemptuous  glance  over  the 
English  copy,  Sparkleigh  would  take  up  his 
pen,  and  in  the  remaining  quarter  of  an  hour 
213 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

scribble  out  a  full  and  complete  fair  copy — 
to  the  respectful  admiration  of  his  neighbour 
Grubbe,  who,  covered  with  ink  and  surrounded 
by  waste  paper,  was  laboriously  grappling  with 
the  last  couplet. 

There  are  many  Sparkleighs  in  school  life — 
and  in  the  larger  world  as  well.  They  are  not 
really  deceitful  or  pretentious,  but  they  are 
members  of  a  society  in  which  revealed  amb- 
ition is  not  good  form.   That  is  all. 

There  is  one  curious  relaxation  of  the  school- 
boy's vendetta  against  ostentatious  industry. 
You  may  work  if  you  are  a  member  of  the  Army 
Class.  The  idea  appears  to  be  that  to  cultivate 
learning  for  its  own  sake  is  the  act  of  a  pedant 
and  a  prig,  but  if  you  have  some  loyal,  patriotic, 
and  gentlemanly  object  in  view  such  as  the  ob- 
taining of  the  King's  Commission,  a  little  vul- 
gar application  of  your  nose  to  the  grindstone 
may  be  excused  and  indeed  justified.  But  you 
must  be  careful  to  explain  that  you  are  never 
never  going  to  do  any  work  again  after  this. 

As  already  noted,  these  characteristicspuzzle 
the  foreigner.  The  Scotsman,  for  instance, 
though  even  more  reserved  than  the  English- 

214 


THE    FATHER    OF   THE    MAN 

man,  is  not  nearly  so  self-conscious;  and  to  him 
"ma  career" — to  quote  John  Shand — is  the 
most  important  business  in  life.  Success  is  far 
too  momentous  a  thing  to  be  jeopardised  by 
false  modesty;  so  why  waste  time  and  spoil 
one's  chances  by  pretending  that  it  is  a  mere 
accident  in  life — the  gift  of  chance  or  circum- 
stance? The  American,  too,  cannot  understand 
the  pose.  His  motto  is  "Thorough."  American 
oarsmen  get  their  crew  together  a  year  before 
the  race,  and  train  continuously — even  in  win- 
ter they  row  in  a  stationary  tub  under  cover — 
until  by  diligent  practice  they  evolve  a  perfect 
combination.  Englishmen  would  never  dream 
of  taking  such  pains.  They  haveavague  feeling 
that  such  action  is  "unsportsmanlike."  In  their 
eyes  it  is  rather  improper  to  appear  so  anxious 
to  win.  Once  more  we  find  ourselves  up  against 
the  shame  of  revealed  ambition.  The  public 
school  spirit  again! 

So  much  for  the  gods  a  boy  admires.  Now 
for  the  gods  he  is  afraid  of. 

The  greatest  of  these  is  Convention.  The 
first,  and  perhaps  the  only,  thing  that  a  boy 
learns  at  apublicschool  isto  keep  in  his  appoint- 
ed place.  If  he  strays  out  byso  much  as  a  single 

215 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

pace,  he  is  "putting  on  side,"  and  is  promptly 
sacrificed.  Presumption  is  the  deadliest  sin  in 
school  life,  and  is  usually  punished  with  a  fer- 
ocity out  of  all  proportion  to  the  offence.  In 
moderation,  Convention  is  avery  salutary  deity. 
None  of  us  are  of  much  use  in  this  world  until 
we  have  found  our  level  and  acquired  the  vir- 
tues of  modesty  and  self-suppression.  It  is  ex- 
tremely good  for  a  cheeky  new  boy,  late  cock  of 
a  small  preparatory  school  and  idol  of  a  doting 
family,  to  have  to  learn  by  painful  experience 
that  it  is  not  for  him  to  raise  his  voice  in  the 
course  of  general  conversation  or  address  him- 
self to  any  but  his  own  immediate  order  until  he 
has  been  a  member  of  the  school  for  a  year  at 
least.  These  are  what  may  be  termed  self-evid- 
ent conventions,  and  it  does  no  one  any  partic- 
ular harm  to  learn  to  obey  them.  But  the  great 
god  Convention,  like  most  absolute  monarchs, 
has  grown  distinctly  cranky  and  eccentric  in 
some  of  his  whims.  A  sensible  new  boy  knows 
better  than  to  speak  familiarly  to  a  superior,  or 
take  a  seat  too  near  the  fire,  or  answer  back 
when  unceremoniously  treated.  But  there  are 
certain  laws  of  Convention  which  cannot  be 
anticipated  by  the  most  intelligent  and  well- 
meaning  beginner.  For  instance,  it  may  be — 

216 


THE    FATHER    OF   THE    MAN 

and  invariably  is — "side"  to  wear  your  cap 
straight  (or  crooked),  or  your  jacket  buttoned 
(or  unbuttoned),  or  your  hair  brushed  (or  not), 
or  to  walk  upon  this  side  of  the  street  (or  that). 
But  which?  It  is  impossible  to  solve  these  pro- 
blems byany  process  save  that  of  dismal  exper- 
ience. And,  as  in  a  maturer  branch  of  criminol- 
ogy, ignorance  ofthe  Lawisheldto  be  no  excuse 
for  infraction  of  the  Law.  I  once  knew  a  small 
boy  who,  trotting  back  to  his  House  from  foot- 
ball and  being  pressed  for  time,  tied  his  new 
white  sweater  round  his  neck  by  the  sleeves  in- 
steadofdonningit  in  the  ordinary  fashion.  That 
evening,  to  his  great  surprise  and  extreme  dis- 
comfort, he  was  taken  out  and  slippered  by  a 
self-appointed  vigilance  committee.  To  wear 
one's  sweater  tied  round  one's  neck,  it  seemed, 
was  the  privilege  of  the  First  Fifteen  alone. 
Who  shall  tell  how  oft  he  offendeth? 

And  even  when  the  first  years  are  past  and 
a  position  of  comparative  prominence  attained, 
the  danger  of  Presumption  is  not  outdistanced. 
A  boy  obtains  his  House  colours,  we  will  say. 
His  friends  congratulate  him  warmly, and  then 
sit  down  to  wait  for  symptoms  of  "side."  The 
newly-born  celebrity  must  walk  warily.  Too 
often  he  trips.  Our  first  success  in  life  is  very, 
217 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

very  sweet,  and  it  is  hard  to  swallow  our  exult- 
ation and  preserve  a  modest  or  unconscious  de- 
meanour when  our  heart  is  singing.  But  the 
lesson  must  be  learned,  and  ultimately  is  learn- 
ed; but  too  often  only  after  a  cruel  and  utterly 
disproportionate  banishment  to  thewilderness. 
Can  we  wonder  that  the  Englishman  who  has 
achieved  greatness  in  the  world — the  states- 
man, the  soldier,  the  athlete — always  exhibits 
an  artificial  indifference  of  manner  when  his 
deeds  are  mentioned  in  his  presence?  In  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  this  is  not  due  to  proverbial 
heroic  modesty:  it  is  caused  bypainful  and  last- 
ing memories  of  the  results  which  followed  his 
first  essays  in  self-esteem. 

The  other  god  which  schoolboys  dread  is 
Public  Opinion.  They  have  little  fear  of  their 
masters,  and  none  whatever  of  their  parents; 
but  they  are  mortally  afraid  of  one  another. 
Moral  courage  is  the  rarest  thing  in  schoolboy 
life.  Physical  courage,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a 
sine  qua  non:  so  much  so  that  if  a  boy  does  not 
possess  it  he  must  pretend  that  he  does.  But  if 
he  exhibits  moral  courage  the  great  majority 
of  his  fellows  will  fail  to  recognise  it,  and  will 
certainly  not  appreciate  it.  They  do  not  know 
its  meaning.  Their  fathers  have  extolled  it  to 

218 


THE    FATHER    OF    THE    MAN 

them,  and  they  have  heard  itwarmly  commend- 
ed in  sermons  in  chapel;  but  they  seldom  know 
it  when  they  meet  it.  If  an  obscure  and  unath- 
letic  prefect  reports  a  muscular  and  prominent 
member  of  the  House  to  the  Housemaster  for 
some  gross  and  demoralising  offence,  they  will 
not  regard  the  prefect  as  a  hero.  Probably  they 
will  consider  him  a  prig,  and  certainly  a  sneak. 
The  fact  that  he  has  sacrificed  all  that  makes 
schoolboy  life  worth  living  in  the  exercise  of 
his  simple  duty  will  not  occur  to  the  rank  and 
file  at  all.  Admiration  for  that  sort  of  thing  they 
regard  as  an  idiosyncrasy  of  pastors  and  mas- 
ters. 

It  is  not  until  he  becomes  a  prefect  himself 
that  the  average  boy  discovers  the  meaning  of 
the  word  character,  and  whether  he  possesses 
any  of  his  own.  If  he  does,  he  begins  straight- 
way to  make  up  for  lost  time.  He  sets  yet  an- 
other god  upon  his  Olympus  and  keeps  him  at 
the  very  summit  thereof  from  that  day  forth  for 
the  rest  of  his  life.  As  already  noted,  the  Eng- 
lishman is  suspicious  of  brains,  despises  intel- 
lectuality, and  thoroughly  mistrusts  any  super- 
ficial appearance  of  cleverness;  but  he  worships 
character,  character,  character  all  the  time. 
And  that  is  the  main — theonly — difference  be- 
219 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

tween  the  English  man  and  the  English  boy. 
The  man  appreciates  moral  courage,  because 
it  is  a  sign  of  character.  It  is  the  only  respect 
in  which  the  English  Peter  Pan  grows  up. 

Finally,  we  note  a  new  factor  in  the  compos- 
ition of  the  Public  School  Type — the  military 
factor.  Ten  years  ago  school  Cadet  Corps  were 
few  in  number,  lacking  in  efficiency,  and  thor- 
oughly lax  in  discipline.  Routine  consisted  of 
some  very  inert  company  drills  and  some  very 
intermittent  class-firing,  varied  by  an  occas- 
ional and  very  disorderly  field-day.  Real  keen- 
ness was  confined  to  those  boys  who  had  a 
chance  of  going  to  Bisley  as  members  of  the 
shooting  eight.  The  officers  were  middle-aged 
and  short-winded.  It  was  not  quite  "the  thing" 
to  belong  to  the  Corps — presumably  because 
anybody  could  belong  to  it — and  in  any  case  it 
was  not  decorous  to  be  enthusiastic  about  it. 

But  the  Officers'  Training  Corps  has  chang- 
ed all  that.  At  last  the  hand  of  peace-lovingand 
somnolent  Headmasters  has  been  forced  by  the 
action  of  a  higher  power.  Now  the  smallest 
public  school  has  its  Corps,  subsidised  by  the 
State  and  supervised  by  the  War  Office.  Three 
years  ago,  inWindsor  Great  Park,  King  George 
reviewed  a  perfectly  equipped  and  splendidly 

220 


THE    FATHER   OF   THE    MAN 

organised  body  of  seventeen  thousand  school- 
boys and  undergraduates;  and  these  were  a 
mere  fraction  of  the  whole.  The  O.T.C.  is  un- 
deniably efficient.  Its  officers  hold  His  Majes- 
ty's commission,  and  have  to  qualify  for  their 
posts  by  a  course  of  attachment  to  a  regular 
body.  Frequently  the  CO.  is  an  old  soldier. 
Discipline  and  obedience  of  a  kind  hitherto  un- 
known in  schools  have  come  into  existence. 
That  is  to  say,  A  has  learned  to  obey  an  order 
from  B  with  promptitude  and  despatch,  not  be- 
cause A  is  in  the  Fifteen  while  B  is  not,  but  be- 
cause A  is  a  sergeant  and  B  is  a  private;  or  to 
put  the  matter  more  simply  still,  because  it  is 
an  Order.  Conversely,  A  gives  his  orders  clear- 
ly and  confidently  because  he  knows  that  he 
has  the  whole  weight  of  military  law  behind 
him,  and  need  not  pause  to  worry  about  athletic 
status  or  caste  distinctions. 

It  may  be  objected  that  we  are  merely  sub- 
stituting a  military  caste  for  an  athletic  caste; 
but  no  one  who  knows  anything  about  boys 
will  support  such  a  view.  The  new  caste  will 
help  to  modify  the  despotism  of  the  old:  that  is 
all.  And  undoubtedly  the  system  breeds  initi- 
ative, which  is  not  the  strong  point  of  the  aver- 
age schoolboy.  In  the  Army  everyone  looks 

221 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

automatically  for  instruction  to  the  soldier  of 
highest  rank  present,  whether  he  be  a  brigadier 
in  charge  of  a  field-day  or  the  oldest  soldier  of 
three  privates  engaged  in  guarding  a  gap  in  a 
hedge.  It  istheselow-gradedelegationsof  auth- 
ority which  force  initiative  and  responsibility 
upon  boys  who  otherwise  would  shrink  from 
putting  themselves  forward,  not  through  lack 
of  ability  or  character,  but  through  fear  of  Pre- 
sumption. And  here  we  encounter  another  thor- 
oughly British  characteristic.  A  Briton  has  a 
great  capacity  for  minding  his  own  business. 
He  dislikes  undertaking  a  responsibility  which 
is  not  his  by  right.  But  persuade  him  that  a 
task  is  indubitably  and  officially  his,  and  he  will 
devote  his  life  to  it,  however  unthankful  or  ex- 
acting it  may  be.  In  the  same  way  many  a 
schoolboy  never  takes  his  rightful  place  in  his 
House  or  School  simply  because  he  does  not 
happen  to  possess  any  of  the  restricted  and  ac- 
cidental qualifications  which  school  law  de- 
mands of  its  leaders.  Now,  aided  by  the  initi- 
ative and  independence  which  elementary  mil- 
itary training  bestows,  he  is  encouraged  to  come 
forward  and  take  a  share  in  the  life  of  theschool 
from  which  his  own  respect  for  schoolboy  stand- 
ards of  merit  has  previously  debarred  him.  All 

222 


THE    FATHER    OF    THE    MAN 

he  wants  is  a  little  confidence  in  himself  and  a 
little  training  in  responsibility.  The  Officers' 
Training  Corps  is  doing  the  same  work  among 
public  schoolboys  to-day  that  the  Boy  Scout 
movement  is  doing  so  magnificently  for  his 
brethren  in  other  walks  of  life. 


II 

But  we  need  not  dip  into  the  future:  we  are 
concernedonly  with  the  past  and  its  effect  upon 
the  present. 

What  manner  of  man  is  he  that  the  English 
public  school  system  has  contributed  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  State  and  the  Empire?  (With  the 
English  public  schools  we  ought  f^iirly  to  in- 
clude Scottish  public  schools  conducted  on 
English  lines.)  How  far  are  the  characteristics 
of  the  boy  discernible  in  the  Man?  The  answer 
is: — Through  and  through. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Man  is  usually  a  Con- 
servative. So  are  all  schoolboys.  (Who  shall 
forget  the  turmoil  which  arose  when  a  new  and 
iconoclastic  Housemaster  decreed  that  the 
comfortable  double  collar  which  had  hitherto 
been  the  exclusive  property  of  the  aristocracy 
223 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

might — nay,  must — be  worn  by  all  the  House 
irrespective  of  rank?) 

Secondly,  he  is  veryaverse  to  puttinghimself 
forward  until  he  has  achieved  a  certain  locus 
standi.  A  newly-elected  Member  of  Parliament, 
if  he  happens  to  be  an  old  public-school  boy, 
rarely  if  ever  addresses  the  House  during  his 
first  session.  He  leaves  that  to  Radical  thrust- 
ers  and  Scotsmen  on  the  make.  He  does  this 
because  he  remembers  the  day  upon  which  he 
was  rash  enough  to  rise  to  his  feet  and  offer  a 
few  halting  observations  on  the  occasion  of  his 
first  attendance  at  a  meeting  of  the  Middle 
School  Debating  Society.  ("Who  are  you," 
inquired  his  friends  afterwards,  "to  get  up  and 
jaw?  Have  you  got  your  House  colours?") 

Thirdly,  he  declines  upon  all  occasions,  be 
he  scholar,  or  soldier,  or  lawyer,  to  discuss  mat- 
ters of  interest  relating  to  his  profession;  for  this 
is  "shop."  He  remembers  the  historic  "rag- 
ging" of  two  harmless  but  eccentric  members 
of  the  Fifth  at  school,  who,  dwelling  in  different 
Houses,  were  discovered  to  be  in  the  habit  of 
posting  one  of  Cicero's  letters  to  one  another 
every  evening  for  purposes  of  clandestine  and 
unnatural  perusal  at  breakfast  next  morning. 

If  he  rises  to  a  position  of  eminence  in  life  or 

224 


THE   FATHER    OF   THE    MAN 

performs  great  deeds  for  the  State,  he  laughs 
his  achievements  to  scorn,  and  attributes  them 
to  "a  rotten  fluke,"  remembering  that  that  was 
what  one  of  the  greatest  heroes  of  his  youth, 
one  Slogsby,  used  to  do  when  he  had  made  a 
hundred  in  a  school  match. 

If  he  is  created  a  Judge  or  a  Magistrate  or  a 
District  Commissioner  he  is  especially  severe 
upon  sneaks  and  bullies,  for  he  knows  what 
sneaking  and  bullying  can  be.  For  the  open 
law-breaker  he  has  a  much  kindlier  feeline,  for 
he  was  once  one  himself.  He  is  intensely  loyal 
to  any  institution  with  which  he  happens  to  be 
connected,  such  as  the  British  Empire  or  the 
M.C.C.,  because  loyalty  to  School  and  House 
is  one  of  the  fundamental  virtues  of  the  public 
school  boy. 

Lastly,  compulsory  games  at  school  have 
bred  in  him  an  almostpassionate  desire  tokeep 
himself  physically  fit  at  all  times  in  after  life. 

He  has  grave  faults.  Loving  tradition,  he 
dislikes  change,  and  often  stands  mulishly  in 
thewayof  necessary  progress.  Mistrusting-  pre- 
cocity, he  often  snubs  genuine  and  valuable  en- 
thusiasm. His  anxiety  to  mind  only  his  own 
business  sometimes  leads  him  into  deciding 
that  some  urgent  matter  does  not  concern  him 
225  p 


LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE 

when  in  point  of  fact  it  does.  As  a  schoolboy  he 
was  the  avowed  enemy  of  all  "cads,"  and  his 
views  on  what  constituted  a  cad  were  rather  too 
comprehensive.  Riper  years  do  not  always  cor- 
rect this  fault,  and  he  is  considered — too  often, 
rightly — cliquey  and  stuck-up.  Disliking  a 
bounder,  he  sometimes  fails  to  penetrate  the 
disguise  of  a  man  of  real  ability.  Similarly  his 
loyalty  to  his  friends  sometimes  leads  him  to 
believe  that  there  can  be  no  real  ability  or  in- 
tegrity of  character  outside  his  own  circle;  with 
the  result  that  in  filling  up  offices  he  is  some- 
times guilty  of  nepotism.  The  fact  that  the  of- 
fence is  world-old  and  world-wide  does  not 
excuse  it  in  a  public  school  man. 

Finally,  all  public  school  boys  are  intensely 
reserved  about  their  private  ambitions  and 
private  feelings.  So  is  the  public  school  man. 
Consequently  soulful  and  communicative  per- 
sons who  do  not  understand  him  regard  him  as 
stodgy  and  unsociable. 

But  he  serves  his  purpose.  Like  most  things 
British,  he  is  essentially  a  compromise.  He  is 
a  type,  not  an  individual;  and  when  the  daily, 
hourlybusinessofanationistogovern  hundreds 
of  other  nations,  perhaps  it  is  as  well  to  do  so 
through  the  medium  of  men  who,  by  merging 

226 


THE  FATHER  OF  THE  MAN 
theirown  individuality inacommonstock, have 
evolved  a  standard  of  Character  and  Manners 
which,  while  never  meteoric,  seldom  brilliant, 
too  often  hopelessly  dull,  is  always  conscient- 
ious, generally  efficient,  and  never,  never  tyr- 
annical or  corrupt.   If  this  be  mediocrity,  who 

would  soar? 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

^This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


University  of  California 
SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Returnthismateria^^ 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  UHHMi  ^ACILlI  i 

'llll 


AA    000  706  139    3 


3  1158  00884  4929 


